


The Date

by charab



Series: Dysfunctional Affairs [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Debates on religion and humanity, Demons, First Dates, Humans, M/M, Miscellaneous references, Other Beings, Philosophical Pondering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charab/pseuds/charab
Summary: An arrangement of an unconventional nature may, perhaps, be the most natural order of things there is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of references all around the place. As well quite a bit of philosophical rambling. No offense intended to any party reading it, merely being a writer who likes to twist thoughts into different forms only to see where it leads. Enjoy.

”Let me take you on a date.”  
  
The silence that followed the words dropped between two men, a tan and a pale, who were crowded in a little kitchenette barely bigger than a closet, made Iruka's ears ring. That didn't make it any easier to comprehend what the other, a being with the looks of a silver-haired male, had just said to him while they had been cooking their evening porridge. He should buy more oat milk when he went to the store again, one part of Iruka's mind helpfully reminded, and that seemed to be sufficient to make his mouth work again. ”Uh...what brought this up?”  
  
There was no need to look in the mismatched eyes of gray and red to hear the pout in the low, rumbling voice. ”You don't like the idea.”  
  
”I did not say that,” Iruka found himself countering, not so much surprised about the tone his words had; apparently the week's symposium and the everyday routine in giving the sermon and comforting the troubled souls had made his voice stick to the ' _calm and understanding_ '. ”If I question something it doesn't necessarily mean that -” A muttered curse left him when the porridge almost managed to climb over the kettle's rim, the hisses and gurgles drowning his words. The tan hands quickly lifted the pot from the heat plate and put it on the counter top to cool down a bit.  
  
The dark eyes gave a passing glance at the mismatched ones when the tan man rolled the sleeves of his black plain button shirt up on his forearms and opened the cupboard to his left. After a moment, two bowls and a pair of drinking glasses were offered to the other male, and the dark-haired head nodded towards the small kitchen table that had been pushed against one wall in a small living room as an answer to the questioning look that Iruka received from the other.”Why don't you set the table and we'll discuss this in a bit?”  
  
”....Alright.” The clinks of tableware were heard when the pale creature whose bare chest and broad shoulders were covered with fine silver fur instead of fair naked skin, took the spoons from the drawer next to him and then took the offered dishes before slouching off to do what had been asked of him.  
  
Deciding that the day had been long enough without him trying to see inside the other's thick-haired head, Iruka gave a passing rub on his scarred nose and then took the pot of porridge with him to the table where the other was already seated with a clear look of anticipation written on his pale, scarred features. On the other hand, the sharp nails that drummed impatiently against the worn wood of the table was already a rather obvious sign regarding the other's mood, and Iruka fought against the urge to place a calming hand on top of the tapping fingers. This was not an anxious elder nor a bored teenager he was dealing with, another voice in his head reminded him, but an entity that was to be approached in a very different manner. Time ticked by as he ladled the porridge in the bowls, took the pot back to the kitchen, came back with a pitcher of water, filled their glasses and then sat down, all done under the steady gaze of the narrow mismatched eyes.  
  
The dark eyes met their counterparts, and Iruka could feel a sliver of heat gather on his high cheekbones. ”Um..mind if I..?”  
  
The eye-roll was unnecessary, but his question was clearly humored.”If I minded, you'd have been decked through the floor quite some time ago.” The twitch of the thin-lipped mouth flashed a sharp fang, more likely to make a point than to offer a disarming smile.  
  
”At least you cannot be blamed for being dishonest,” Iruka mused and smiled despite himself, and then laced his fingers into a silent prayer, the twenty-seven-year-old Lutheran priest fighting against the persistent giggle that threatened to bubble out when his quietly mouthed _amen_ made a groan that was all show leave the other man. When he felt that he had stalled the inevitable long enough, the tan man took a spoon in his hand and took a deep breath, consciously ignoring the way the poor lighting of his apartment made the silvery fur of the bare upper body shine from all the right places when the other popped briefly into the kitchen in order to fetch the oat milk.”Now then. Can I ask why you would like to take me on a date, Kakashi?”  
  
The answering shrug could have been described blandly indifferent hadn't the intense look in the gray and red eyes tattled all about the truth in the matter. ”It seemed like a nice idea.” The nimble hands twirled the spoon in the bowl, mixing the oat milk with porridge before scooping some into the thin-lipped mouth, and had it been anyone else than a Hound of Hell sitting across the table, Iruka would have claimed that he was looking at a nervous teen fidgeting from the sheer abundance of jittery hormones.  
  
Then again, considering the last three weeks when his life had taken a sharp turn of one-hundred-and-eighty, the young theologian wasn't about to place any bets on his hell creature reading skills.”Have you been thinking about this for a while?”  
  
”A while.” As fatally handsome and as sinfully wicked the silver-furred man was, he was also an insufferable ass from time to time, and it should have been somewhat alarming that Iruka had almost forgotten that fact among many others. In any case, the demon caught onto the man's tweaked temper and decided to elaborate, much to the relief of the pleasant silence that loitered around.”You've seemed a bit stressed lately, and as much as I like it here in your place, the company of Luther and Barthes interests me only some way. I thought we could both enjoy an outing together, all things considered.”  
  
It took him some effort to swallow the mouthful of porridge, but Iruka managed. Considering the strange arrangement he had found himself settled with, he wasn't so sure if _a bit stressed_ was enough to describe all the events through which he had plundered in a short span of time.  
  
Granted, going from sheer terror to utter disbelief leading to awkward attraction and lastly to the sleepless hours spent thinking if it was considered bad for his career to keep the hell hound that had followed him home and had consequently refused to leave could be disorienting to any mortal, to say the least.  
  
He should have known better than to humor his drunken self by imitating his Catholic colleagues on a dingy alley behind a bar and slur some questionable Latin to a stray mutt that he had caught lurking behind the dustbins.  
  
Thinking about adding some more salt to the porridge was a futile attempt to lessen the heat that made his ears burn as the next words left him.”That's rather nice of you, to be so considerate of...the situation.”  
  
”Yet you still sound like you don't like the idea.” Kakashi's mismatched eyes peered at the other over the rim of the bowl, and the demon hid a sliver of a smile behind it when the priest tried to make his eyes look at something else than the long tongue that licked off the remnants of porridge, the sharp gaze in the narrow eyes not missing the way the Adam's apple bobbed in the tan throat.  
  
”I don't dislike it.” Perhaps it should have been slightly off-putting, to hear himself say that. Then the priest's eyes followed the hound who stood up and gathered the used dishes before making the way to the kitchenette, and maybe it was the full stomach feeding his courage when a teasing smile spread on the full lips and he called after the pale man.“But where did you have in mind? We can't exactly have a walk in the park, unless I put you on a leash and make you play fetch like the other dog owners.”  
  
“I always told the others that you Christian priests really are a kinky bunch,” was jibed back from the kitchenette, and then the hound slouched to the doorway with two chilled bottles of beer in hand, lifting them in sight. “Want some?”  
  
“I have an early morning. But thank you,” Iruka said and took a better seat on the creaky kitchen chair. He leaned his back against the wall by the table as he let his eyes roam over the scarce twenty-eight square meters that made his fortress of disrupted solitude, the high and wide bookshelves that took most of the space and the small hallway where there still lay a tattered mat with a large, dark stain on it; the dark brown eyes stopped briefly at the sight of the unfolded sofa-bed made with fresh sheets before turning back to the kitchen space where the other had once more disappeared into. “Should I be worried that you haven't answered my question yet?”  
  
“I prefer to keep the finer details to myself for the time being, but you can trust me to pick you up tomorrow after the seminar, so dress smartly,” Kakashi said as he emerged back from the kitchenette, without any bottles of beer in sight. The demon made his casual way towards the seated theologian who let his dark eyes travel over the threadbare black sweats the hound had oddly taken a liking to wear after the first night the man had slept at the priest's place in his current form.  
  
“I'm not so sure if I'm making a right decision by placing my trust in you,” Iruka said and smiled tiredly at the rumbling chuckle he heard, and then raised a wondering eyebrow at the sight of the empty hands. “You're not having any yourself?”  
  
By a way of answering, the pale, long fingers carded through his thick, dark hair, coaxing him to sit straighter and then took a good hold onto the base of his ponytail, tilting his head up to make him meet the darkening gaze.  
  
_Ah_.  
  
The kiss was burning, sensual, and with enough nipping teeth to make his toes curl inside his black socks. When the chair complained about added weight, Iruka idly wondered just how many times he could afford to be late from mr. Hiruzen's strictly scheduled presentations before getting thrown out of the symposium. But when the hot mouth and sharp teeth found the spot behind his right ear and when his dark shirt was unbuttoned open and pushed off his shoulders to reveal the light-gray top underneath that did nothing to shield his hardening nipples from the pinching fingers, he decided that it was a question for an other lifetime.

* * *

  
  
Surprisingly he had been early for the day's seminar, his dark dress shirt, dark pants and high ponytail in check, his leather satchel packed with a notebook, the symposium program and a list of reference literature held in one hand and a warm thermos cup of coffee in the other – which he suspected to be the courtesy of someone unmentioned who had spied his unsteady morning hobble.  
  
Although he needed to inform the helpful asshat that as much as he appreciated the sentiment, space-skipping one's undefined person of interest right into the bushes by the entrance of the Konoha University's faculty lounge led to questions that really couldn't be brushed off with dignity, so Kakashi should either learn to pinpoint the locations correctly or just practice self-control and leave out the fourth round during weekdays in the name of all holy.  
  
Regrettably, the priest felt rather certain about the brewing possibility that the demonic mutt knew exactly what he was doing.  
  
Nevertheless, the seminar day had rolled forward like the well-oiled machine mr. Hiruzen made it to be, arguments, questions and answers having been thrown from left, right and center while notes had been taken and worldviews had been questioned. As it was, by the end of the day Iruka was experiencing a rather queer sensation of a panoramic tunnel vision when the moment to measure his trust came.  
  
His feet carried him through the double doors while his mouth droned out greetings and well-weekend-wishings to both his peers and the day's panelists who he went past on his way across the yard, none paying attention to the way his eyes were looking for something else than the people passing by. At last, a teasing wag of a silver tail was spotted behind the thick bush fence before it disappeared behind a corner, and the young man couldn't help smiling at the rather playful gesture.  
  
He should have known that _picking up_ was used loosely when it came to his strange companion.  
  
The heels of his leather shoes clicked on the pavement as he made haste down the street, following the silvery tail that brushed past the tourist groups, dashed between business people and rounded a noisy lot of school children, it taunting him, reeling him in like a willing moth to a flickering flame through the milling crowds. A familiar neon sign came to view, and a grin not many had seen on the young priest spread on the full-lipped mouth at the sight of one particular bar that had played a starring role in the past month's events. He didn't need to see the flash of the tail to know which corner to turn.  
  
Before he had taken more than five steps into the shadowed back alley, a presence all too familiar pressed against his back, and his eyesight was suddenly blocked by a smooth cloth that was tied firmly over his eyes and then pulled to yank his head backwards before a pair of lips descended on his grinning mouth and stole his baited breath away. For seconds that felt like hours, the enticing scent of the demon's body filled his nose and the feel of the strong arms embracing him made him sigh into the kiss.  
  
“You'd better not think that I'm into having pasta behind _Tony's_ on a first date,”[1] he noted breathlessly once his mouth was his to use again, and Iruka couldn't help shivering in apprehensive anticipation as he could feel warm breath washing over his skin.  
  
“Maa, as much as I love gazing at the stars in your eyes when banging the holy nonsense out of you, this is something a bit different,” said the voice that rumbled deep and low, like a drum thrown inside a cave with dozen carnivores, before the thin lips dived in for a second taste of the full-lipped mouth.  
  
Never having heard such sound coming from the other man before, and realizing how his body shuddered with want at the rumble that reverberated through his veins, it took Iruka an embarrassingly long moment to realize that his satchel was no longer in his possession and his heating skin was tingling like someone was both thoroughly checking his pockets and drawing strange geometrical figures on his body through his clothes _the_ _ **hell**_ _._  
  
The sneaky bastard molesting him must have sensed the abrupt change of mood since the hold of the strong arms turned from seducing to restraining in a heartbeat, making Iruka's long-neglected survival instincts raise the alarm inside his spinning mind. The gasp that left him was a distant cousin to the lust that then skipped over the fence of soul-eating fear and his mouth started muttering words he never thought he would use in such a setting. “ _O' Father in Heaven_ -”  
  
Before he could continue, a large hand covered his mouth, effectively cutting off any other prayers, curses and pleas the young man's heart leaked out into his muffled voice.  
  
“Is not where we are going,” was all the demon growled before a barrier of bright blue light curled around them like a bubble and echoed with the booms of lightning, drowning out the loud thumps of his stuttering heart from Iruka's ringing ears.  
  
To the city around them, only a faint pop of displaced air sounded in the dark alley behind _Tony's_ as the odd pair, a mortal priest and a hound of hell, disappeared from the plane of the man-made reality.

 

* * *

  
  
  
It never was a nice feeling, to have both body and mind split in two and then meshed back messily between dimensions of time and space. Iruka felt oddly comforted by the fact that he did not throw up the instant he felt solid ground under his shaking feet.  
  
He did, however, throw his vows of love for the fellow men to the wind for a brief second and the place they had been brought to echoed with a sound that came from a fist hitting someone squarely in the jaw. Namely the silver-furred prick who grunted both in surprise and from the sting that the accurately aimed hit caused.  
  
Mismatched eyes narrowed their gaze to meet the infuriated dark brown ones that had been revealed from under the hastily removed cloth, and the silvery demon gave a thoughtful rub over his throbbing jawline. “That was a surprisingly good punch for a priest.”  
  
“Funny you should say so, as that was a surprisingly dastardly move for someone who had asked for my trust,” Iruka seethed back, barely suppressing his blazing temper that heated his blood towards the boiling point. He knew he stood no chance against the other should things go that way, and a small trembling voice at the back of his head reminded him that violence did not solve anything, but he would be damned to discard any opportunities to lay a couple of good smacks on the silvery asshole who looked at him with a renewed glint of curiosity in the sharp eyes.  
  
One pale finger was lifted in the air and then slowly pointed straight at the scarred nose of the peeved priest, and Iruka could not shake off the feeling that the other's eyes were somehow different than what they had been moments ago; narrower, livelier – more intense. Even the vertical scar cutting over the red eye was more eye-catching than it had been earlier. “I'll be getting to that punch later, and I'm willing to discuss my methods with you, but we're going to be late if we continue this so unless we want to miss out we'd better be going.”  
  
“How do you even assume in that harebrained head of yours that I want to go anywhere with you after that stunt, let alone wanting to see what we'll be missing?” Had he had any idea that he would be having this sort of conversation somewhere in an other reality with a creature of hell that was starting to look rather impatient over his temper tantrum, Iruka would have made a good deed for himself to wait in the toilet queue like everybody else drinking at _Tony's_ instead of having chosen the alley to relieve his intoxicated miserable self. However, knowing that wallowing in what ifs was not going to solve the current dilemma of being hijacked beyond the boundaries of common mortal laws, Iruka took in a deep breath and with a long exhale let his fists lower to his sides, though with the fingers still curled and ready to strike if needed. “Where have you brought me?”  
  
“It is not Hell, if you are asking that,” came the lowly growled answer.  
  
Unwillingly, Iruka counted the knots that the words tied inside his stomach. So they were back to snippy riddles and hinted threats.  
  
“It's not what I was asking, Kakashi,” he said instead, the priest keeping his voice steady and calm with some effort, while he risked a look at his surroundings. At what he saw, he gave a pause in thought, which the other male seemed to catch onto since there was no comment forthcoming. “...This the alley behind Tony's.” The dark buildings around them looked the same, with the rusty rainwater pipes and rows of trash bins lined up near the back doors. Even the graffiti decorating the walls appeared the same – and yet there was something different in them.  
  
“It is, and yet it isn't,” Kakashi said, the hound's low voice tinged with amusement that came from his observations on the changing expressions of his dark-haired date. “We're in what could be roughly translated as _No-_ _M_ _an's Neighborhood_ , if that says anything to you.”  
  
The response made Iruka blink, his dark eyebrows rising in a clear sign of confusion. “I can't say that it does.” Then the dark eyes turned up to look at the expand of the oddly gleaming milky way that stretched over the sky above their heads, and the tan man hated himself a little for the way he sounded when voicing out the question that had been looming at the forefront of his mind for a good while. “But since you took away my things, I have a feeling that this is not any closer to Heaven either. Should I be worried?”  
  
“Not at the current minute, and not during the whole evening if all goes according to plan,” the silver-furred demon murmured almost soothingly when he stepped closer to the priest, the hound deeming it safe enough for his sensitive nose to get a good whiff of the mortal's scent that always did things to his ambivalent moods.  
  
Knowing how to read between the lines did very little to ease his surfacing nerves, and the darkly dressed priest felt a twinge of unease in his gut when he opened his mouth to give yet another question he wasn't sure he wished to be answered, his eyes tracking the paths of the coldly gleaming stars above them. “Then what is your plan?” When Iruka finally looked at his companion, the theologian suppressed an urge to step back when he noticed how close the other stood, making him breathe the same chill air as the other male did.  
  
“Well, my plan is to treat you to dinner, maybe meet some people, then maybe get a good-night kiss, considering that it is our first official date. If this sits well with you and I'm not getting punched again, that is,” Kakashi spoke quietly, his thin lips curling into a small assuring smile on the pale face, the gesture showing that one of the hound's fangs was slightly crooked. Just like the being itself apparently was.  
  
To Iruka it all appeared oddly charming, which may have been the testimony of his escaping sanity. “I thought you said you wanted to keep the fine details to yourself,” he heard himself tease while he gave in to the temptation and took a small step forwards the other, pressing his body against the heat that the lightly furred skin was emitting.  
  
The smile on the demon's face widened considerately at the mortal's unexpected gesture, and one silvery eyebrow rose in interest at the turn of events. “I am. Those are merely guidelines that I gave you so you won't slap me for every single thing we do tonight.”  
  
“You're actually considering the idea of me slapping you tonight, aren't you.” As shaken as he still felt, Iruka let a smile break out on his face, it matching the wickedness that he saw twinkling in the red and gray eyes when the demon caught onto the meaning behind his feeble joke.  
  
“First a leash and now a promise of spanking. If you keep this up I don't know if I should call the animal patrol or let you keep me.” Feeling somewhat relieved that there was no punch to his line coming, Kakashi grinned like a dog with a juicy bone when he saw the swirl of dormant emotions pass in the dark brown eyes of the lightly blushing priest. The evening was proving to become interesting for both of them.  
  
“Ass.” The insult carried no heat as he said it, and Iruka let the last remaining tension leak out from his body along the passing red on his cheeks. Then the both men, the demon and his mortal date, kept their eyes connected over the shifting mood that lingered between them, both noticing how the thick layers of unease slowly dribbled into the sewers, giving way to the wary anticipation.  
  
After a bout of silence, the gaze in the demon's eyes turned deeper than the shadows surrounding them. “Maa, I was hoping to get to that part eventually before you go on another personal crusade against me.”  
  
He was sure that the other could hear him mentally groan at that, but Iruka didn't let that shake the thin line of truce they were both balancing on. To even the stakes better, the tan man gave a prudent sniff and cocked his jaw in mock challenge. “It depends on how well you perform tonight.” Yet when he stepped back from the other, feeling suddenly rather self-conscious from being the supposedly only mortal within God knew how many dimensions between him and his own reality, he also became rather aware of the fact that his date had decided to up the dress-code for the evening, and swallowed a rather unbecoming string of curses when yet another flush of heat stole over his high cheekbones.  
  
The hound who stood before his widening eyes was dressed in a sophisticated mix of graphite gray and black from head to toe, with an only exception of pale silver-colored bicycle toe oxfords made out of shiny leather and carrying thin streaks of blood-red stitches on the seams. The dress pants were fitted from all good points of the male body in its prime, as was the sleeveless tight-fitting jersey that did nothing to hide the broad shoulders and the chiseled chest displayed underneath the soft-looking garment. What was the most striking part for the whole ensemble, though, was a dark mask attached to a black undershirt that the demon then stretched over his pale features, covering the smiling mouth and the straight nose that Iruka had already grown accustomed to; the glint he saw flickering in both the graphite gray and blood-red eye became all the more pronounced.  
  
For a fleeting moment, Iruka wondered if he might rudely ignore his first-date etiquette before the evening was over. More precisely put, if he was going to let the incarnation of sex who stood before his eyes call it a night without a few vigorously performed _alleluias_. He also noted that the other was obviously waiting for a compliment to the chosen outfit, which made him desperately grasp for words other than _forget what I said about having pasta in an alley and let me suck your_ _long_ _spaghetti._ “...You look, uh, very nice.”  
  
He supposed that not many mortal men could say that they had seen a hell hound blush like so. Furthermore it was relatively strange to see such a powerful creature to look so awkward as it scratched its pale cheek.  
  
Although, considering the way the hound's eyes crinkled in a smile over the edge of the mask, the demon undoubtedly had caught onto his crashed train of thought. “I'm pleased to see you think so,” came the taunting reply which confirmed Iruka's suspicion, and the smug bastard in question even had the nerve to strut his hip out.  
  
“You said we were going to be late?” Distraction, albeit a little underhanded perhaps, was his best weapon to gain back his footing and make him forget the phallic coup d'état happening inside his boxers.  
  
It seemed to work on the other male, as on those words, the demon gave a passing glance at the night sky above their heads, as if their set schedule could be spotted from somewhere up there. “Ah yes, you're absolutely right. We should be on our way already. Though there's just one more thing I need to do before we can go.” With that, the silver-haired being stepped close to the priest once again, and calmly lifted his palms fully in sight for the dark brown eyes to see. “Do you trust me?”  
  
Heavens no, but Iruka could blame the hormonal clash of interests for saying “Yes.”  
  
However, there was no hiding the flinch he gave when the pale hands gently covered his eyes and forehead. Only the soft murmur of nonsense that filtered into his ears kept him still under the even pressure of the big hands. After what felt like an indecisive minute, the clawed hands left his face, letting the cool air brush against his heated cheeks and tingling skin as he opened the eyes he had closed on instinct. Seeing the oddly keen look he received from the other, he couldn't help but come to the only conclusion that ringed a couple of bells in his head. “You did something to my face didn't you.”  
  
“Just gave my plans the first push towards success,” was the answer, and there was no mistaking that the hound sounded very pleased with himself. “Now you'll blend in without a hitch.” Before Iruka could put a word edgeways, the silver-haired male also opened the priest's cuffs and rolled up the sleeves to show the tan forearms. Then the long-nailed fingers found and undid a few upper buttons of the dark shirt, the demon paying only little attention to the outrage he heard in the sudden opposing exclamations. Finally catching onto the mood of his scandalized-looking date, the hound gave the man a tiny wink. “Maa, don't get this the wrong way. You know how much I like seeing you all prim and proper, but there's no harm in helping you to look even more ravishing for tonight.”  
  
“Let me guess, this is also part of the details you won't tell me about, isn't it,” Iruka huffed, if only to get the heat off his face. There was something about letting his dark gray undershirt show to the world that made him feel rather exposed – but it could also have something to do with the contemplating gaze that he could see settling on his bristled ponytail. “The hair stays up, by the way.”  
  
Kakashi gave a mental scoff at that, but then he saw the look in the other's eyes. Ah well. Best to let the hair be. Then the masked being stepped back, savored the shade of cherry on his date's cheeks with some satisfaction, and then turned on his smartly dressed heels to stroll towards the entrance of the alley, making Iruka notice only then the newest addition to the other's lower back: the long silvery tail wagging lazily from side to side. The priest had no chance to ask why the other had decided to leave his tail in the open view when the demon continued: “Maa. I'll let you onto the details as things progress, but, as much as I hate to rush this date forward, Time, like the evil bitch they are, is not stopping for us so we need to get a move on if we still want to catch our reservation.”  
  
Knowing better than to ask the riddling demon what exactly was reserved for them, Iruka turned his attention to an other matter beside his fixed clothing and raised his hands to his forehead, letting his tentative fingers run over the strange bumps of what felt like slightly curved and rough-cut spikes of bone sticking out of his skull. Being an educated man on both divine and diabolic symbols when it came to religious illustrations didn't make it easier for him to decide if he should have felt either backhandedly flattered or mortally offended with what he found decorating his head near his hairline.  
  
The fiend had given him horns.

 

* * *

  
  
  
“So. This _No-_ _M_ _an's Neighborhood_ ,” Iruka discreetly started a discussion as he walked down the street with the silver-furred hound, the mortal priest gradually picking up sounds that were echoing through the empty streets along the clicks of their heels as they made their way through shady alleys and deserted cross-roads; the bustling sounds of a lively city yet unseen to the naked eye. “What exactly is this place?”  
  
The quietly humming demon next to him took a moment before answering, most probably to decide how to phrase things that were beyond the comprehension of a mere human. “An in-between zone snuggly fitted between different realities. In your case, a check-point between the Eternal Damnation and Heavenly Salvation, if you wish to find a simple definition to it considering your beliefs,” said the hound, his narrow eyes glancing at his companion before focusing on the road ahead. “In a much broader sense, it is a reflection of all dimensions that there are, appearing slightly differently to everyone depending on their entering points. A blip of a twilight that is not visible in anyone's radar, where all beings mingle with no excluded parties, eternal grudges or snuffed existences spoiling the fun. A place to go to for our kind.”  
  
A slender eyebrow rose inquiringly on the sun-kissed forehead, and Iruka couldn't help giving a humored smile to the male walking beside him. “A place to take your dates to?”  
  
The answering look on the silver-haired male's masked face could have been called smug and all its other names. “Maa..” Then the couple rounded a corner and when the mortal stopped abruptly to stare at the sight before them, the corners of the mismatched eyes crinkled with a smile as the demon hound gave a sidelong look at his stunned date. “That, naturally.”  
  
As much as he enjoyed hearing his companion's low voice, Iruka barely registered the hound's words as the sight of the bustling neighborhood overwhelmed his senses.  
  
There were street food stalls lined up in every passage and corner; bright lanterns with all the shades of red that a human eye could detect illuminated the passing crowd with flickers of pale pink and blood red depending on their skin color – and should they carry feathers, furs or scales. Snips of various music pieces filtered through the noise of chit-chat, carried by instruments the priest was sure he may not even have words for and played by musicians he was sure he had last seen illustrated in a children's storybooks of demons, sprites and warlocks.  
  
The scents of both the foods and what else were sold in the stalls and the little shops that littered the whole street they had happened upon made his nose twitch on its own accord, the alluring smells of incense, perfume and musk making his high cheeks flush without his consent. The rustle and ruffle of feathers, furs, scales, leather, jewellery and a variety of more or less exquisite attires brushed against his ears while the clicks and snaps of sharp-toothed mouths and beaks made his skin erupt into goosebumps; the eclectic colors of eyes and ornaments decorating some of the bodies that went past the stopped couple fascinated him beyond mere human curiosity.  
  
He was drawn to the crowd while standing rooted on the spot, his body torn between the desire to turn a tail or to dive into the sensory cacophony that was unraveling before him. Belatedly, he realized that the low huffs of breath he could hear were coming from his date, and as he gave the silvery male standing next to him a look, he then realized that at some point of those few minutes, his hand had taken a firm grip of the furred arm closest to him like a toddler seeking comfort when facing the unknown. What made Iruka's cheeks color further, though, was the fact that the bastard attached to the furred arm was clearly enjoying it.  
  
Hastily, he let go of the arm but wasn't given room enough to step away when the same arm slithered behind his lower back. “Sorry about that.”  
  
“Don't be. I was counting on this sort of reaction,” rumbled the other teasingly, the silver-haired head leaning closer to the dark-haired one to let the demon whisper huskily to his date's ear: “The light of the red lanterns looks good on your horns.”  
  
The priest snorted in humor at that throw, halfway wondering if being the target of the other man's constant jibes was actually proof of being interesting enough to hold the hound's attention. Yet when he noticed his reflection in a small, cracked mirror that hung behind the demon's shoulder, the human stopped in his thoughts to stare at himself, not even noticing that his abrupt shift of focus was noticed by the man standing next to him.  
  
What he saw under the smudges and patina of the small mirror made him reconsider their previous banter.  
  
What first struck his attention was the sight of two golden yellow eyes instead of familiar dark brown that stared back at him, their irises turned into dark slits instead of round orbs; the narrow eyes were framed with black, inked lines that traveled up his cheekbones and forehead, all the way into his hairline where two pale gray horns stood out proudly, which was the second place his gaze stopped at. They weren't large in size, as more the kind that fit into one's fist; the kind that appeared to ask for a caress, the edges of them smooth to the touch and easy on the eye.  
  
Yet, it was the sense of familiarity of the sight that made him pause his processing and give a glance at his companion while feeling halfway tempted to sneer at himself just to see if there were fangs put in his mouth. There was something tingling at the back of his mind, for which he couldn't find suitable words.  
  
Before he could react verbally to what he was seeing, the hand on his back gave him a push to make him follow the other's lead out of the alley. When they stepped amid the milling crowd, the couple squeezed past the ambling bodies of spirits and nightmares who didn't give them more than a glance on their way; much to Iruka's relief. The Lutheran priest, while focusing on the sure hand pressing against his back and the body heat of the friendly hound walking beside him, vividly recalled the tales of what always happened to mortals who ventured into the underworld and got caught in the act. Before he could stop himself, he heard himself mutter: “I'm going to be messily eaten.”  
  
The claws of the hand steering him dug briefly into the soft flesh beneath the black shirt: “No, you're not, because you're with me – besides,” both the blood red and graphite gray eye flickered to look at him, and Iruka could swear he saw what undoubtedly was a filthy grin through the dark mask the exact moment when he felt the clawed hand slide further down his backside and squeeze possessively when the hound continued: “you know I have excellent table manners.”  
  
Oddly enough, that attempt in bad humor cracked the heavy stones that Iruka had felt piled one by one inside his gut ever since they had stepped on this particular plane of dimension; the reassuring warmth of the palm he could feel through his clothing might have also had something to do with it. Thus, he could not help the small smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Aren't you smooth.”  
  
“They don't call me a silver tongue for nothing,” the brightly grinning bastard declared before waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “With which you most likely agree considering the sounds you make whenever I-”  
  
This time the priest did sneer. It didn't seem to carry the effect he wished to, however, as the silver-furred pervert next to him barked a howling laugh at that.  
  
Not that Iruka himself was able to keep the stupid grin off his face, while wishing that the brief burst of warmth inside his chest could also be allowed to have a name. To chase the lurking inner demons away, he turned to admire the view around them, letting his senses take in as much as possible of the oddities and exotic sights they passed. “You know, this brings to mind what I once thought a proper red light district might look like, when I was young and full of imagination.” The pause was measured, and the demon knew to give a moment for the other to search for the proper words: “Well, perhaps with some other kind of patrons chatting and doing business...but, as odd as it may be, I find myself preferring what I now see to what I once dreamed of. I'm rather strange, aren't I,” Iruka chuckled, mostly to himself, and side-stepped when a group of rambunctiously cheering children dashed past them, the swishes of various tails in numbers, sizes and colors tattling of a child's enthusiasm to play out well past their bedtime – with or without permission. He let his dark eyes trail after one particularly excited child, the sight of the boy's bright blonde hair, nine equally blonde tails and little whiskers on his chubby cheeks making something shadowed and dark ease its hold on the priest's spirit.  
  
Definitely not what he had once imagined.  
  
“Not any stranger than anyone else is normal,” said the pensive hound who had stopped next to the tan man, the narrow eyes tracking the last wags of little tails in the direction where his date was still looking before the hellhound turned to look at his quiet companion.“You know who they were, those brats?”  
  
“I can't say I have ever seen their kind,” Iruka answered and let his eyes turn to look at the other standing next to him.  
  
“They're _jinchuuriki_. Tailed beasts, when I break it down to your language.” Kakashi clicked his tongue. “Troublemakers, in other words. Brace yourself.”  
  
“What-” Before Iruka could continue, a bellow that shook some of the stalls and lanterns echoed from the buildings around them before a strong gust of wind bullied its way through the startled crowd that had happened in its way, it pushing violently past the couple as well, knocking the priest off balance in the process. As he landed against his date, the man stared in surprise at what sped past them, his eyes catching only the view of flattened dark ears, blazing dark eyes, claws sharp enough to tear the very air into shreds and a flaming mouth opened to yet another ground-shaking howl of outrage before the furious being zipped its way down the street.  
  
“That. Their caretaker is quite a specimen, they say. Rumor has it that his howl could tear wormholes into space in the earlier days before his other lung was pierced by some wayward hunter who was feeling lucky that day.” Well. Lucky for those whole three seconds it had lasted. “But, those kind of stories are for other days, really. Let's continue our way, we should be at the bistro in a few moments.” With that, Kakashi helped his date back on right footing and steered them away from what was most likely going to be a very entertaining scene about to play out.  
  
' _The Howl_ _'_ forgotten, Iruka let the other guide him back onto track and followed the press of the hand that had once more found its spot on his back, not quite able to keep the doubt out of his voice. “An actual bistro? You really reserved us a table in a proper dining establishment?”  
  
“I see that your faith in me is rather thin and dwindling in kind,” mocked the masked man.  
  
Considering the three week crash course in interdimensional relations he'd gone through he'd say that it was plenty of the kind of faith that the mutt deserved, but Iruka wisely kept his mouth shut on that. Not that the silver-furred genius didn't see underneath his pointedly raised eyebrows, if the sheepish huff of laughter was anything to go by.  
  
Suddenly a voice ringing like silver bells cooed next to Iruka's ear, startling the priest to turn and look at what had appeared next to them two. A pair of smoky black eyes with pupils white as pearls peered back at him and a lush pair of bronze-colored lips stretched into a coy smile on a beautiful face of a being who seemed to carry the best traits of all sexes on their person. A pale hand rose to wave at him daintily, and the eyes fluttered their silvery lashes, them drawing in Iruka's attention in a manner that felt like an insistent pull of unnamed desire coursing up his spine.  
  
Yet the affected priest was given no opportunity to respond to the odd sensations as the hold of the hound tightened on his back and he was determinedly escorted away from the casually flirting being, only a teasing croo of disappointment left lingering behind their backs.  
  
“That was a high-grade desire,” his date spoke into his ear while Iruka cast a last look at the being in question over his shoulder. As it was, the mentioned demon was looking after them in obvious interest, their lush lips twisting into a seductive smile and the exquisite, purposefully layered transparent robes on their body cascaded in a way that definitely spoke of expertise on how to present an attractive body.  
  
In the face of something as alluring as such an entity, it was understandable for Iruka to take a moment to clear his head and register what he was hearing. On that note, the priest turned his eyes back to his companion. “A lust demon?”  
  
“They would mind if you said that to them,” the hound grumbled, “they're particularly sensitive on titles and the pecking order.” The narrow eyes gave a sharp glance over the silvery shoulder, the hound letting out a diabolically rumbling chuckle that Iruka had not heard before. “The history of men, however, know many of their kind with many other names, and traits. The most famous courtisans, for example, were not made of clay.”  
  
“The things that are not taught when in history class,” the dark-haired man heard himself murmur before a snip of a thought caught him by surprise. “But don't they usually have an exclusively pointed sex? I mean, incubus being a male and succubus a female?”  
  
The look in the narrow, mismatched eyes sobered up considerately. “I have not heard anyone claim such a thing.”  
  
It was rare for Iruka to scoff when laying out arguments, but he felt like making an exception. “You can't be serious. The mythology of mankind -”  
  
“They can fuck you in seventy ways for seven days straight without a rest and you'd love every second of it, which I consider as a fact that speaks quite a lot louder than the question of what gender they supposedly should have,” the hound said, ever so calmly, and the priest did see the point when the statement turned into intentional provoking. “Figures why mortals are so hung-up on their holy wars and think only in black and white, you've stopped seeing how fluid and versatile things actually are.”  
  
Iruka reacted to the barb when it was thrown at him, knowing that it was expected, and yet the words of the other made him hesitate the barest second with his answering comment, which was more than enough for the hound to close the discussed topic.  
  
The pale hand that rose to grasp the priest's chin while the other took a better hold of his back surely led the hound onto the way how Iruka's pulse stuttered when a pair of masked lips pressed against his. It was brief, and it felt rather odd to taste fabric instead of skin, but his lips were still left tingling and his budding arguments had wilted in his throat, which seemed to be what the other had been aiming for if the pleased look on the masked face was any implication. A long-nailed thumb rubbed against his lower lip, and the human read the gesture for what it was, letting himself nod and turn back to look at the scenery around them.  
  
He didn't need to let the other see the smile on his lips, as he did not need to see the smile in the sharp eyes to know where they stood then.  
  
As for the questions that then circled in his mind, Iruka let them all slide from his shoulders for the time being. There would be a proper moment for them later.  
  
They made their way past the luxurious little shops and steaming barbeque of street vendors, the demon hound taking time to explain the things he found his mortal date fascinated by, their walk leading them past the creatures of tall tales and by a pub full of boisterous holy men who seemed to share a rather interesting passion to rock-paper-scissors with all the other sacredly appropriate hand gestures thrown into the mix. Iruka doubted there to be any way to tell the others at the symposium how he was tempted to join Saint Peter cheering for Siddhartha who was beating the blessings out of Saint John in their game without sounding like someone who had been lost in a desert for quite a long while.  
  
Then, a sharp tug of a clawed hand made him turn to face the way his date was looking, and a neon sign caught his eyes the moment he realized that they had apparently arrived to their designated destination.  
  
A small bistro, no bigger than a two-floor condominium squished between large apartment buildings in a large city, stood before them, it's purple sign flickering amid the shades of red and pink lanterns, with white tablecloths, rows of book shelves, tasteful little flower arrangements and tall wine glasses showing through its large ground-floor windows.  
  
While it was nothing that the priest had been mentally preparing for, the name of the little bistro however offered him a certain sense of familiarity when it came to his date's dark sense of humor. “ _The_ _Purgatory_ , Kakashi?”  
  
“You have to admit, it does have a nice ring to it considering the occasion. They say it's better than _The Holy Threesome,_ which in my opinion would have went better with their art book selection,” the hound pointed out, noting with pleasure that his date did approve of his choice despite the little show of rolling the expressive eyes. “Which reminds me,” he said as he reached for the door, a sliver of an amused smile gracing his hidden lips, “I know you enjoy talking about religious art history, but if you could refrain from mentioning Hieronymus Bosch while we're here it would be appreciated. The owners can be a bit...over-enthusiastic with that topic.”  
  
“Pardon?” Try as he might, there was no saying the word without having his voice crack ever so slightly, and Iruka hoped against all hope that he didn't appear as nervous as he suddenly felt. Heavens only knew, the priest could not shake off the feeling that he was a sacrificial lamb about to waltz into a wolf's den with white tablecloths ready to be dyed red with his blood. Luckily an interference from outside was harsh enough to knock him out of his darkening thoughts.

“Hey rabie _sss_ rutter, unle _ssss_ you want to have your coffee _sss_ erved iced through your uptight anu _sss_ you better _ssst_ op ssshying by the thre _sss_ hold and pull your tail out of the bree _zzs_ e!” A shout with enough hiss to spit a trace of venom into air called from inside the bistro, which made the pale demon grasp a good hold onto his date's tan arm in order not to let the surprised man beat a hasty retreat, judging from the full-body flinch the priest gave.  
  
“Always lovely to hear your pretty nasal, Anko,” Kakashi called, the hound promptly ignoring the pulling of his other hand as he stepped inside the bistro, his foot firmly booting the door closed once he had the mortal man securely steered inside, thus effectively blocking the other's escape route. Not paying heed to the incredulous look crossing the scarred face of his date, the hound turned to look over to the bar counter a dozen feet away. “You have to play nice tonight, I brought in a stray who I happened to find in an alley the other day and he's not used to your sweet talking.”  
  
“Only you make table re _sss_ ervation _sss_ to feed _sss_ trays, mutt,” the little lady introduced as Anko hissed amiably from the other side of a dark wooden bar counter. With her purple hair tied up in two perky pigtails and a rather exposing mesh shirt covering her upper body that was inked with swirling and curling coils of snakes, the barista in question was quite a contradicting sight with the fine tableware and elegant bottles surrounding her curvy and compact figure. Her sharp eyes looked the disguised mortal from horns to toes as the two men stepped further into the little bistro, the gaze assessing before a dirty grin made the well-chewed dumpling stick tilt upwards between her sharp teeth. “Though I wouldn't mind having one of that _sss_ ort following me home.” With that said, the woman leaned on the counter with her best assets put on display beneath the mesh shirt and Iruka could swear he saw one of her snake tattoos tilt its head to stare at him with the same kind of predatory interest as its carrier did. “ _Hello_ there. The name' _sss_ Anko, and the plea _ss_ ure is alway _sss_ mine.”  
  
“Be careful, they say it takes only one look and even the hardest devils turn to stone,” Kakashi rumbled teasingly to Iruka, and as the priest looked unimpressed at his date's immature remark, the dark-haired man noticed the mismatched eyes of his companion glinting with something he wasn't sure if he wanted to put his finger on.  
  
“ _Sss_ tone hard, that i _sss_ ,” the addressed snake lady needlessly elaborated before flicking a couple of purple-colored menus at them over the counter. “Your table i _sss_ the u _sss_ ual. Make your _sss_ elf u _sss_ eful and _sss_ tart paying for the banter. Though be prepared that whatever you order you'll get to eat the chef' _sss_ _sss_ pecial. Ibiki i _sss_ in a queer mood for _sss_ ome rea _sss_ on.”  
  
The noise that left the pale demon spoke volumes. “You twisted his panties again?”  
  
“There are mi _sss_ take _sss_ meant to be made only onc _ss_ e, which i _sss_ _s_ _ss_ omething you're not _sss_ o good at learning,” Anko pointed out and then spoke to Iruka, though with her pointedly raised eyebrow directed at the silver-haired demon next to the tan man. “It _'sss_ _sss_ o hard for him to re _sss_ train him _sss_ elf when _sss_ niffing the a _ssss_ e _sss_ in public place _sss_ , _sss_ o I'd advic _ss_ e you to watch your tail.”  
  
“All right little lady luck, enough of hissing unnecessary things,” the silver-furred hound growled, then grabbed the menus in tow and tugged his date along to their table well out of earshot from the counter before his companion could come up with the crazy idea that the man could spend his evening elsewhere than with the now darkly grumbling demon. Kakashi took pride in knowing that he was currently very much more interesting company to the dark-haired priest than the mindless scribbles of long-dead men and was determined to keep it that way.  
  
“Charming hostess, must say,” Iruka politely offered, and hell if his voice wasn't filled with barely contained volumes of rippling hysterics, whether it was because of the dirty jokes getting to him already or how accurately they hit the proverbial nail on the head was left unclear. “I'm beginning to understand the naming policy for this place,” the man murmured while he let himself be steered next to a little table and was then offered a chair; a gesture which promptly hip-checked his wavering amusement out to make room for blatant bemusement.  
  
At the look of mild surprise on the other's lightly blushing face, Kakashi had the grace to smile as the tan mortal sat gingerly down before clearing his throat quietly and sitting down on his side of the small table that made them both feel like teenagers again with too many elbows and knees for a couple of minutes when they negotiated their limbs over and under the table top.  
  
“Your usual table, eh?” Iruka asked when he just narrowly saved a wine glass from tipping over, the dark-haired man setting it down at the center with the rest of their tableware, only then noting the lone belladonna set in a small frail porcelain vase next to a purple-colored candle that emitted a scent that brought substance to _memento mori_. At that, his eyes rose to give an amused look at the other male over the morbidly romantic setting. “Feeding plenty of strays here, Kakashi?”  
  
“Only the ones I feel like following home,” the hound said, his mismatched eyes glinting in the candlelight in a manner that offered a gateway for one courageous butterfly to flutter all over the place inside Iruka's chest. “If they let me.”  
  
Taking the menu offered him a moment to gather his thoughts, and Iruka felt absently unsurprised to see that he could not read the odd words he was presented with. A sigh later, when he had collected enough of his scattered mind, the priest glanced at the other male over the edge of the laminated cardboard. “Then should I let you order something for us both tonight, seeing that I cannot read the menu?”  
  
“I would be delighted,” the demon said, the silvery bastard looking all too sincere with his innocently smiling eyes across the table which was enough to make Iruka believe that the linguistic mishap had been done on purpose. This date seemed to be full of surprises for the night. “Fancy any skewered python?”  
  
Well. Two could play this game. While suppressing a telling smirk, the priest leaned over the table on his elbows with his chin resting on his casually laced fingers, and as if the man was testing just how well they could gleam, the golden, slanted eyes fixed a smoldering look at the pale male. “You know what kind I fancy,” he said, his voice low and laced with queer godliness, which seemed to make one of the demon's silvery eyebrows rise and continue its interested ascend all the way behind the messy silver bangs. There was little sense in diving head first into murky waters, a fleeting voice in Iruka's mind commented, yet those words were drowned by the way the sharply looking mismatched eyes trailed over the scar bisecting the dark-skinned cheekbones before settling on the impishly smiling full-lipped mouth.  
  
“I guess the apple jokes are off the menu tonight,” the hound supposed, his gaze dropping shortly back to the menu and then flicking up, looking once more at his companion.  
  
“I think you greatly overestimated your charm if you thought I let you have the bad puns on me tonight,” Iruka countered, and heaven help him he could feel the deviousness of his grin taking over the glint in his eyes as well.  
  
Though what wiped the smirk off his tan face was a smartly dressed leg that slid over to lean against his shin and thus igniting something burning with low heat in his stomach while the corrected hound observed him across the table with what appeared to be demonic appraisal sparked in his darkening gaze. “Indeed, that I seem to have,” the silver-haired male amended, the low bass reverberating through the thickening air between the men.  
  
“ _Sss_ top polluting the air with your pheromone _sss_ , we can _sss_ mell you all the way to the kitchen,” Anko, like the loving hostess she was, stabbed the blatant flirting in the eye and left it bleeding when the woman stepped to the little table and served the couple two shot glasses filled with deep burgundy liquor. “Your appetiz _ss_ er _sss_ , gent _sss_ , _sss_ ent with all of our fuck _sss_. Dec _ss_ ided on the menu before the try _sss_ t I tru _sss_ t. May I _ss_ ugge _sss_ t to go with _sss_ omething that i _sss_ fa _ss_ t to dige _sss_ t and add _sss_ to _sss_ tamina.”  
  
Ignoring how Iruka discreetly turned to admire the street-view in order not to let the cracking poker face show, Kakashi handed their hostess their menus and fixed his mildest masked smile at the woman standing next to them. “We'd like to have your full _Ibanko_ menu tonight.”  
  
Somehow, Iruka mused, he had a feeling he should surely be more alarmed from the way Anko first blinked and then looked at him in a very different manner than she had earlier via the reflection in the window when the hound had placed their order. If anything, the slowly forming smile that showed the woman's impressive pair of venom fangs was a rather obvious sign of him having agreed to something that may very well put his health in immediate danger.  
  
“I'll _sss_ ee to it. If you'll excu _sss_ e me, _gentlemen_.” With that riddling politeness left lingering in the air, the small woman pivoted on her heels and skipped into the kitchen, the sharp whistle of an off-key funeral march following her steps until it being mercifully cut off by the swing doors.  
  
“Maa,” the silver-furred demon rumbled and picked up the small glasses, the pale hand offering one over the table to the mortal, “the first date always calls for a small toast, don't you agree?”  
  
Albeit he had learned to control it fairly well over the course of the odd month, the brief moment of doubt was there when Iruka took the offered glass and then took a whiff of the odd liquid, his dark eyebrows furrowing before he cast a fleeting glance at the innocuous flower that decorated their table. He could not lie that the bedtime stories concerning the events of mortal men drinking and dining in the company of immortals which resulted with more or less disturbing plot twists surfaced in his mind as he traced the deep purple petals of the flora in question with his eyes. The gaze he felt on his face felt heavy during that moment, for which he could not blame the other.  
  
“They're not in a habit of poisoning paying customers, despite what the décor implies,” the silver-furred hound said quietly, having undoubtedly deduced what his quiet date had been thinking. As it was, the male idly swirled the liquor in his glass, the mismatched eyes trained to the self-conscious man across the table. “Besides, I'm known for many things, but not for prolonging the fates of those who I'm set to hunt.”  
  
On those words, Iruka cast his date a look over the candlelight, a beat of a human heart turning into a second of silence before a tan hand lifted the glass in a salute and the dark brown eyes crinkled into a smile of a man who had decided to see things through, may heavens help his soul. “I'll hold onto those words tonight, then.”  
  
The toast was a quiet affair, and the liquor warmed his chest as he drank it, tangy poison with a drop of honey, it shifting the shadows in his soul to make room for the red lights that shone outside their window – and the feel of a shoe-clad foot that rubbed idly against his calf through his dress pants.  
  
“It tastes good, doesn't it,” the other supplied at the sight of his easing posture and the redness of the flush that rushed over his cheeks.  
  
“It does,” he curtly admitted, the rub of the lone foot against his feeling much more pronounced to him as he met the other's steady gaze over the slowly building ambiance, and the priest found himself marveling the way the contrast of the dim lights and dark shadows cast an almost ethereal halo on the hound's silvery hair, how it accented the broad shoulders, making his eyes travel briefly over the lean tendons and muscles of the silver-furred arms. At the sight of the other's knowingly smiling eyes, however, Iruka turned his eyes away to look at the interior of the little bistro.  
  
It wasn't completely empty, with other patrons scattered here and there amid the still empty seats. Various medicinal and poisonous herbs that he could identify decorated the tables similar to theirs, all accompanied with candles of different shades of red; the lively candlelight on the white tablecloths making it appear as if the tables were floating. The priest let his eyes venture up the walls, passing the bookshelves that were crammed with leather-bound backs, their names all too faint for him to read – and then, there were the massive murals, the painted illustrations spiraling over the walls and the surprisingly high ceiling, curling around the old lamps that shone their dimmed lights.  
  
What he could see painted above them made his soul stutter.  
  
What unraveled before his widening eyes were twisting branches of the trees of myths, all bearing unknown fruits and offering seating to flocks of exotic birds ruffling their feathers and pecking the harvest, the colors of strikingly intense ultramarine, deep velvety crimson, lush viridian, bright lemon and others spreading the warmth of the drink all over his body – yet, once one looked at the brushstrokes more carefully, one could see the bark of the tree transforming into a pattern of scales, the foreign blooms turning into yawning mouths with venom fangs and forked tongues licking the air; _vanitas_.  
  
“It appears that my pick for the venue pleases you,” were the words that pulled the mortal back to the present, and the demon let a smile spread on his masked lips when the other's golden eyes snapped back to gaze at him, the shine in them telling of a well-educated man's delight at what he was seeing.  
  
“It is beautiful,” Iruka heard himself answer with surprising honesty, and he stole one more glance above at the round cheek of a fruit resembling a pomegranate, its peel opening suggestively like a quivering body spread on the sheets. “I now understand your comment from earlier. They seem to be fans of his.” Truly, the distinct style of the passed painter was remarkably well copied.  
  
“Fanatics, more precisely,” the hound chuckled and let his foot draw back from leaning against the other's leg, if only to stop his tail from twitching. “Although, the artist was surprisingly cooperative in creating this last piece of his, but that might have had something to do with the abundant culinary bribes and the promise of a few gallons of ambrosia.”  
  
After registering what had been said, the man who had been admiring the tapestry whipped his head around to stare at his companion in silence before his mouth and tongue had rearranged themselves. “You're saying that-”  
  
“Fir _sss_ t cour _sss_ e, gent _sss_ ,” Anko, reading her cue impeccably as ever, materialized next to them and soon an assortment of small bites was spread on the table top. Looking pleased at the stunned look on the newcomer's scarred face as the foreign stray took in the food, the purple-haired demon gestured over the edibles with flourish: “Ibanko _sss_ hall _sss_ tart with the complimentary _sss_ erve: harve _ss_ t from lo _sss_ t garden _sss_. _Enjoy_.” That said, the lady slunk away, though not without serving an unrequested wink at Iruka before turning her back, much to the priest's awkward wonder.  
  
Yet, as he gave a look at his date over the exquisite serving of roasted and glazed fruits, the silvery hound had already poured them sparkling drinks from a bottle which had not been on the table the last time he had checked. As the mismatched eyes sought out their golden counterparts, and once he could see the thin lips settle into a small smile underneath the dark mask, it beckoning him to let out the last of his tensions, to read the mood between them and to acknowledge it for what it was for the night, Iruka let himself smile disarmingly at his companion.  
  
The toast with sparkling drinks was silent and contemplative, yet as the first bite made him briefly hope if that's what his heaven could taste like, the supporter of anguished souls and comforter of the mourning let himself be drawn into the sweet promises that were served to him over the course of dinner, his body and spirit humming under the luring gaze of the gray and red irises.

* * *

  
  
  
It was in between the third and fourth course and after a rather filthy innuendo that had left his cheeks flushed long since the laughter had died that Iruka noticed a few things that he had ignored at the beginning of this extraordinary dinner.  
  
For one, every dish they were served seemed to be vegetarian, as there was no meat nor other animal-related ingredients used. Second, he suddenly paid attention to the patrons who had appeared seated to the tables near them, only then realizing that the little bistro was almost full of all kinds of beings enjoying themselves.  
  
“Oh, how late is it already?” He asked to no-one in particular, the slight buzz in his head making his thoughts trip over themselves for a second due to a sudden change of a track.  
  
“The night is always young here,” Kakashi mused aloud, the demon not so much paying attention to the change of direction their discussion had taken rather than the streak of red that still lingered on the horizontal scar cutting across the priest's high cheeks. The mortal had relaxed significantly after the few beats of uptight polite flailing over their first course, and the hound took dark pleasure in seeing how the human took everything in stride, him enjoying the intellect company of a literate man who had no idea how they then appeared to him. “This place is well-known among many. I suppose you've already figured out the reason.”  
  
Lord forgive him, he could not keep the wide grin off his face as he gave a last look at their empty plates, the aftertaste of stewed fruits, roasted spices and tender flesh of rooted vegetables still lingering on his spoiled taste buds. “Let's see. I bet it's the book collection,” he quipped over the rim of his refilled wine glass, his eyes glinting with the unholy glee of a man who was enjoying himself immensely as he took a slow sip.  
  
“There are days when I certainly hope that to be the case, then we'd actually have a moment to take a breather from these gluttons,” piped in a voice that did not belong to the serpent lady who had hosted them for the night, but a hulking figure who, as the first impression in Iruka's mind helpfully put it once he had narrowly avoided taking his drink down the wrong pipe, was a walking wall of muscle.  
  
As his eyes traveled upwards the ripped bare arms that were carrying a large tray full of steaming pots and plates and barn-door-wide shoulders bunching under simple white linen clothing, the priest came face to face with a crookedly smiling man whose tan skin, black bandanna and the unmistakable cast mark on his forehead gave a rather clear clue on what kind of origins the gigantic male had. If he was honest with himself, when facing such a view, Iruka shortly experienced unexpected kinship with small rodents. Although the pitch black eyes that stared down at their small entourage of two might have also had something to do with it.  
  
When he registered the small black apron tied around the tree-trunk-sized waist of the giant, however, the mortal man also became aware that they were apparently paid a visit from the chef himself.  
  
Not that the reaction of the silver-haired hound wasn't the final clue. “Maa, it is hard not to indulge ourselves when given such a feast, Ibiki,” Kakashi said, and smiled brightly with his eyes at the big man in question. “You've exceeded yourself tonight.”  
  
Booming like a four-inch cannon, laughter rippled from the large chef's chest at that. “It's not really that hard considering the standards that most of the clientele have here,” Ibiki quipped, then focused on putting down the wide plates and bowls of the second main course, them taking over most of the table surface between the two men. “Yet it is rare for you to request our signature menu, so I gave myself a permission to add some extravagance to it tonight.” With those words, the man righted himself, which helped Iruka to make sense to the room height in the bistro, and cast a warm yet curious look at the hound's dark-haired dinner date.  
  
“Maa, Ibiki, this here is Iruka,” Kakashi drawled and vaguely waved a hand between the chef and the priest, “Iruka, meet our chef Ibiki, the second owner of _The Purgatory_.”  
  
Not one to forget his manners even after four glasses of wine, Iruka stood up and offered his hand, along with a warm smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I must say that I've been enjoying the menu tonight, along with my companion,” the priest said, and no matter if it was either the wine or his bright mood talking, his smile turned into a grin as he continued: “I'm also delighted with what you have done to the place.”  
  
“Well this is something. What a polite stray the dog has brought in,” the large man mused with a matching grin while he took the smaller hand into a firm shake. “I'm not sure if you're alright following this guy home tonight. He might give you fleas.” The low rumble of the chef's wicked laughter made the glasses on the tables tremble briefly, it increasing in bass at the sight of blushing tan cheeks and levelly staring mismatched eyes.  
  
“Please, why don't you join us,” Kakashi stated, calm as a glacier, which wasn't hard to notice considering the thin ice coating his words.  
  
“Don't mind if I do,” the large man happily agreed and pulled out a chair from an other table next to him, the chef promptly ignoring the startled yelp and the thud following the action behind his back as he sat down on it with his knees reaching the table top level and his build hunkering over the steaming food. As he sat, the large tray was put leaning against the chair while the large hands pulled out serving ladles from the apron pockets and the black eyes fixed their look on the tan stray in question. “Let me introduce myself properly,” the chef began while scooping up the steamed, shredded and spiced edibles and daintily placing the food on his guests' new set of dinner plates, “the name's Ibiki, been running this bistro over one and a half eternity and I know you've had the pleasure of meeting my partner Anko. I cook, she deals with the serving as well the rest of the crap of doing the business, except when it comes to some desserts.” A ladle was pointed at Iruka's scarred nose. “That lady makes killer dango, if you're into any of that sort.”  
  
When facing such a pitch talk, Iruka had nigh other choices but to voice out his interest. “Is that so. I'll keep it in mind for the next visit,” he said, and dared to shoot a look at his silver-furred date for a reaction to those words. As it was, the hound followed their exchange with the air of casual nonchalance, no trace of surprise or demure confirmation shown in his body language. For some reason that irked him before he caught himself. It seemed that it was best to start eating.  
  
“I haven't seen you for a while, mutt,” Ibiki chatted on, the chef going for a different topic now that the pleasantries had been taken care of, and turned his focus on the other man at the table. “For a moment I thought that you had had hightailed.”  
  
“Maa. You know I'm not one to abandon a kitchen that allows pets,” Kakashi offered mildly while smartly cutting the steamed stalks on his plate, the aura that was circling the masked male appearing like he had nothing else in his mind except for tasting the oven-baked sprouts next.  
  
For some reason, it seemed as if the red light from the street lanterns dimmed just for a fraction of a second, but long enough for a certain brown-haired priest to catch up onto the strange shift of an undefined undercurrent drawing itself tight in the air – like witnessing the moment just before a lightning struck.  
  
“Oh,” Ibiki breathed, low and controlled, and Iruka suppressed the instinctive urge to scoot a good few feet away from the table when the chef's tone of voice turned from roasting fire to cooling embers, the look in his endlessly black eyes becoming sharper than what his kitchen knives undoubtedly were. “They did hiss the right notes, after all.” Yet the man did not sidestep the topic any more. On the contrary, the previous darkness disappeared in a flash from his cowl and was replaced by a shit-eating smirk spreading across the square jaw, so quickly that the mortal man following the exchange had to blink for a few times. “So then you went and brought in a stray, huh. Not too bad for a plot twist.”  
  
Whilst chewing on what he had been garnering from the ongoing conversation, Iruka had a creeping feeling that there was a universal punchline thrown at him that he kept on missing. The unreadable look he caught on his date's masked face wasn't helping his growing suspicion either.  
  
Before the priest could offer some input to the discussion, however, a cheerful jingle of a silver bell rang loud and clear from the vicinity of the kitchen, which made the massive man sigh with the air of the wrongly suffering. “I swear I will kill you one of these days for giving that bell to her,” Ibiki groaned but didn't waste his breath in standing from the table and giving his salute to the couple. “Until we pass each other again.” That said, the chef nodded, pushed the chair back to its rightful owners and headed back to the kitchen, which was then that Iruka found his eyes focusing on the lack of shadow and floor contact under the man's big feet.  
  
“He's a _bhoot_ , before you ask,” the masked demon noted while tasting the pickles, knowing that the words were effective enough to grab the priest's attention, “they say he was a _sadhu_ on a path to enlightenment before the shit hit the fan. The next moment he came to he was standing beside his mauled corpse. To this day, he doesn't know what hit him, but it seems that he had let go of such questions, which is all better for us since those times affected his cooking rather badly.” It also seemed that Anko had taken care of him better than Kakashi and others had feared, for which the hound was glad.  
  
“So he's a ghost?” Iruka asked while mourning the fact that their plates were once more getting empty.  
  
“Yes, and a rather striking one at that,” the hound chuckled. “A good man to have in a kitchen. He's very devoted when helping his guests on their way to nirvana. Though the look on your face is making me wonder if you were expecting to see _Deva_.” A devilish gleam took over the mismatched eyes, a sign that underlined the kind of comments that Iruka had, to his ever-lasting despair, learned to anticipate from the other.  
  
Despite the threat of having wine up his nose, the mortal man could not keep in his snort. “Why is it that you insist on calling out my ignorance towards every single thing we see tonight when you’re not making all of your jokes skid around sex all the time?”  
  
“I could also go with the stiff upper lip quips of the godly almighties, but luckily I can choose to suck on the forbidden fruit as I please, as you very well know,” Kakashi smoothly countered.  
  
Now he really did have wine up his nose. “You horrible demon,” Iruka laughed and wiped his chin and nose hastily with his napkin. “Maybe I should have accepted Kant's company tonight.”  
  
“Yet that smile of yours tells me a very different story,” the idly spoken words, laced with a touch of fine silk, slithered across the table between the men who took a moment to look at each other over the single candle.  
  
It is said that silence is as telling as the words filling it, and when the golden eyes of the disguised priest held their contact with the dark gray and blood red irises gazing back above the dark mask, the sentiment grew flesh and bone around itself.  
  
Then, as seconds ticked by, the smile on the tan face softened and the tan man turned to observe the night-time street life beyond the large windows, and the hound let his back lean lazily against the wooden chair frame, the gaze of the mismatched eyes never leaving the silent mortal's face. Clinks and clatters of tableware filled the silence that circled around them, yet neither of them paid attention to the life happening outside the boundaries of their small table. The empty plates and serving dishes littered the table top, with a couple of unfortunate stains dirtying the white tablecloth, napkins folded after use and fine silvers let down to rest. None of those things were what the dark-skinned mortal and the silver-furred demon were observing at the scene they were in; both the tan and the pale hands resting relaxed beside the finished foods, and yet their fingers were restless.  
  
“Let me show you something while we wait for the dessert,” abrupt, that was what those words sounded like despite the demon saying them so quietly, them breaking through the wall of silence that had settled between them.  
  
For the first time during the date, Iruka was rather certain that it was a line. The smile in the demon's eyes warmed him like their first drink for the night as he nodded and let the hound help him out of his seat, the priest wondering for the second time about the many masks he had not yet seen through when it came to his date. “I hope it's not the holy threesome you're showing me,” he managed to joke, though the surprisingly bland look he received from the other male made his coy smile halt halfway.  
  
“Maa, is it an other kind of hope that I hear in your voice, I wonder,” the hound drawled in mock-thought, the impish smile beneath the mask being most likely wolfish if one could see the man's mouth.  
  
Full of off-white fangs that could tear out his throat in a blink, a helpful voice stated in Iruka's mind as he looked at the smiling male before him.  
  
As a distraction from that unfriendly thought, he turned his eyes to admire the murals once more when a pale hand took a hold onto his tan one and the demon pulled him along towards one end of the large dining area. “I should gag your mouth,” the priest muttered instead of what his mind dictated. Though the moment he caught the lewd gleam in the mismatched eyes his finger pointed up to stop the undoubtedly filthy response that he could well imagine in his own mind. “The date is off if you go there.”  
  
The hound let his mismatched eyes glance at the raised tan hand briefly before turning away and tugging the glaring mortal in tow, steering them both past the dining tables and gesturing shortly to Anko on their way past the new doorway. “I guess there are chances that I shouldn't take yet, but this is something I thought you'd like seeing,” Kakashi chatted, his voice low and calm through the thickening silence that followed their steps over the threshold when they entered an unknown lounge.  
  
However, at that moment Iruka didn't hear what the silvery bastard had said, for he found himself suddenly focused on the new kind of mural decorating the ceiling of the smaller library lounge as they came through its doorway. The precise brushstrokes and well-chosen pigments made his breath hitch as he let himself drink up the view, not registering how his hand was let go by the pale one, or how his feet took the path leading into the new space, making him step slowly beneath the wondrous sight.  
  
Above him, what seized his spirit and rattled his core was the vast deep blue night sky, the dark shades of twilight bringing out the brightest of the stars that shone their gilded light upon his tattered soul, making his whole being tremble in childlike reverence like the first time he had ever heard of the songs sang in the rooms built for the holy; his heart to hammer like during the first kiss that had been stolen from him by a demon who had eyes like cold steel and burning blood, a roar of thunder in his voice and the sins of the devil in his smile.  
  
“I see that it pleases you,” stated a voice speaking directly next to the tan ear, and the silver-haired hound took a sniff of the scent that his sudden close proximity caused on the mortal's skin.  
  
“It's magnificent,” Iruka replied while hoping against all hope that the other did not notice the heat blooming on his high cheeks as he sensed the man's body heat against his back and the puffs of the warm breath on the side of his neck.  
  
A noncommittal sound left the hound's throat at that, low and thrumming. “If you look carefully, you'll notice something even more astounding in them,” Kakashi murmured, paying close attention to the way how his voice dipped lower and how the other's quiet inhale made his tail swish lazily, the cause and the effect not lost on him. He reigned himself, however, and kept his hands to himself, only leaning close like a shadow that had taken a form of flesh.  
  
Resisting the urge to lean against the solid chest that was almost pressing against his shoulder blades, Iruka gazed up and indeed, as his eyes observed the view he suddenly saw it, subtle and delicate. “They're moving,” his voice carried as a surprised whisper. Yet what made his viewing eyes glaze over the sight was not the cleverness of the composition but the voice that caressed his ear and neck when the demon's sensually purring voice filtered through the cracks of his proper upbringing.  
  
“Kind of makes one re-think the scale of importance for a speck of dust and dirt, doesn’t it.” A sharp huff of breath against the bronze-colored ear, and the demon reveled in the shudder that shook the man he had before him.  
  
“You're baiting me again,” the priest whispered, voice low and defiant.  
  
This time there was no helping the hound when he gave in to the temptation to brush his teeth along the juncture of the darkly clad shoulder and the tan throat, keeping his tongue only barely from tasting the sweetly smelling skin. “Maa. I attest to my intention, but it is also merely to note the nature of human mind, how you always make yourself come first – should it be either as the heroes, the martyrs or the villains,” he murmured, low and rumbling, and the tremble he could detect from the other's darkly clad body made his instincts rouse from their slumber, his silver-furred hands tensing from the restraint; the lack of physical contact elicited an enticing whine coming deep from the tan throat.  
  
There really weren't many rebuttals his mind could come up with, not when other matters were pressing against his back and thus consequently warming his hips. Therefore, Iruka chose to take the other route. “Do you observe them often, then?” Despite of the other thoughts twirling in his mind, the golden eyes gave a blink at how honestly curious he sounded, which cleared some of the fog from his brain.  
  
The hound stayed silent for a beat, so still and quiet that Iruka almost jumped when a strong, masked jaw suddenly leaned against his shoulder and the low bass started again: “Everything that is holy can become rotten in a blink when a human touches it. There's no need to call out demons in that equation, really. We've only been living among them, observing and learning.”  
  
When there was nothing else to his question forthcoming, Iruka once more let his gaze linger on the mural above. “...I haven't thanked you for tonight,” he started, calm and collected, and yet the golden eyes were cast down to look at the tiled floor beneath their feet instead of the eyes the priest felt on him. When he let his eyes travel over the expanse of black marble that reflected the room around them as if they were standing upon the surface of a pond, he couldn't help letting his gaze travel over their reflection. “It has been...I have enjoyed myself, and I appreciate how you take things into consideration. I mean, uh,” he suddenly stumbled, his strangely clipped words clashing with his inner debate, the dark-haired man cursing the heat that warmed his ears.  
  
There was a telling shift in the air, the sound of an inhale, followed by the presence of a warm body that finally pressed flush against his back, and he could not bear to keep his eyes open, to turn and see what was reflected in those mismatched eyes that burned their trail on his skin.  
  
“I think I have never told you how much I like the way you look and sound when you're being so high-strung with yourself,” there lay a wicked smile in that voice, a coo of self-indulgency that set lightning striking through their bodily contact before the hound continued: “When you're holding in your true colors, hiding them from my nose, hoping that I wouldn't see through that mask you always insist on wearing – yet you can't help it when there's my cock ramming into your sweet ass just the way you like it. _You let it_ _slip_ ,” were the last words pointedly pronounced, with a snap of a fang and a click of a tongue for emphasis.  
  
It was hard to breath suddenly. There was something in that voice, something beside the filthy words, something that Iruka had been yearning to hear, never knowing what exactly but something he had chased after; something he had sought through the bottom of a glass and pursued down the deserted streets at night before he had found mercy on his soul, the light that had uplifted his tarnished spirit but had still left his aching heart craving.  
  
Something he had been afraid to put his finger on after all those years of seeking had come to an end when he had clumsily tended to a badly wounded stray mutt in his hallway, inebriated and thus ignorant of the lurking intelligence staring back at his gloomy self in the dog's eyes; when he had gotten a harsh wake-up call in the form of messy silvery hair, demonically gleaming eyes and a gnarling mouth full of sharp teeth.  
  
Something that made him slowly turn his head to answer the other's gaze, and his mind to put names on the emotions that he had not dared to think about while his heart was taken over by spasms.  
  
May he be given mercy he didn't deserve.  
  
His voice was taken from him, along with his breath when a pair of masked lips brushed and pressed against his parting ones. He had closed his eyes, not knowing when, but they opened once the pressure of the demon's covered lips eased from his own. Yet they closed again on their own volition when a sharp-nailed thumb caressed his bottom lip, brushing from one side to the other before dipping past the full lips and twirling around the tip of the moist tongue it found, coaxing his body to release a tremendous sigh that traveled all the way from his head to toe and to the tip of his hardening cock.  
  
However, what was said the next moment dispelled quite quickly most of the gathering heat from his hips and made him choke on a mixture of an embarrassed groan and hysterical laughter.  
  
“You can put the dessert on the table, Anko.”

* * *

 

He followed the silvery tail to the seating area by tall book shelves and ended up gazing around the quiet room after their purple-haired host had made her exit that had put the fruits of subtle seduction’s labor efficiently six feet under.  
  
Shadows and lights, was his first impression, his golden eyes taking in once more the sight of the high, painted ceiling and the expanse of the dark marble floor on which the soles of his shoes clicked when he took himself a seat on a worn leathery couch.  
  
Yet he didn't get to wonder too long about the dim lights that hung around the space, the golden yellow spheres looking as if they were floating in the air, as his eyes caught onto the rows of bookshelves that covered the walls around them: wooden frames, sturdy yet elegantly carved, filled with books, scrolls and most curiously miniature trees and flower arrangements, them scenting the air with traces of pine, fern, lavender, mint, carnations, sirens and ones that the priest couldn't name.  
  
He let his curiosity wander, gazing at the odd languages on the titles of the books, marveling the beauty of their bindings and the quality of materials, the human reflecting back to his own home, his carefully preserved rare leather backs and the mundane paperbacks that have been tossed around during the years. He did not anticipate the nature of longing that such thoughts made him feel.  
  
“You like it,” rumbled the low bass next to him, and the tan man turned to smile at his date.  
  
Despite himself, he could not deny. “Yes. Very much so.”  
  
“You might also like the fact that you’re in the presence of the finest literature,” the hound continued with a smile in his eyes, the pale hand swiping vaguely along the shelf the men were seated by. “This is my private donation to this place, when they started the business.”  
  
A dark eyebrow rose in surprise at the hound's words, and the priest read a couple of titles out of habit before remembering that he could not understand what they said. Although, judging from the looks of the seemingly ordinary books and the fact of what he had once caught the bastard doing on his couch with his laptop when he had come home, he could guess. “It's porn, isn't it.”  
  
A lewdly growling chuckle was enough of an answer. “A more virtuous man would be scandalized to hear you being so familiar with these,” the masked man quipped back, obviously delighted considering the light tone in his voice. “I didn't know Jiraiya was known to humans as well.”  
  
“You're reading too much into it,” Iruka cut in, blaming the hotness of his cheeks for making him lose some of the vehemency in his reproachful tone. That, or the smirk that forced itself on his lips. “Or, rather, you're reading too much of it.”  
  
The loud bark of laughter that resulted from his clever words surprised the mortal with the intensity and the volume of it, the hound's rumbling voice sounding suddenly as if there were eight of him in the same room. Still, instead of listening to his survival instincts that did their best to remind him of some certain laws of nature, the priest let himself concede that he enjoyed such a sound coming from the other man.  
  
Then, the mismatched eyes glanced him in a way that made his skin erupt in pleasant chills. Before he could ask what the other was after with such a secretive look, the pale hound turned their attention to the silvery domes that had been put on the low table next to them, as well the crystal bottle of pale golden liquid with two glasses.  
  
The chill room air did nothing to ease the heat from Iruka’s eyes as he stole that moment to look at his eccentric partner, admiring the scar bisecting the narrow red eye, the slope of the silver-furred shoulder, the nape of the darkly clad neck and the lazy wag of a silvery tail that teased the dark-haired man who was then caught staring when the demon turned and offered him a smile. Holding the other's gaze, Iruka let his balance reclaim itself through the sound of his breathing, his mind not focused on anything else than what lay in wait for him in the darkening shadows he had seen in the other's easily smiling eyes.  
  
“I prefer to tend my nerves by coming here whenever I'm visiting,” the demon suddenly said, his gaze on the mortal not changing in pressure nor the lilt in his voice sounding any different than of a man who would be enjoying his nightcap in a small private library. “There's something in here that makes it so pleasing to sit back with a good book and observe the stars. Must be the smell of ink.”  
  
Truth to be told, Iruka couldn't decide if he should treat such revelation with humor or his utmost serious attention. Detecting the mood surrounding his pale companion, the priest settled for smiling kindly at his date; there would be little sense in saying anything, he decided.  
  
The hound let the other man relax some more and then smoothly scooted sitting next to him before pouring them drinks, something sweet by the looks and the smell of it. All was silent around them except for the occasional snips of conversations and other noises they could hear coming from the dining lounge from afar.  
  
“I have to admit, this place does work well for impressing one's date,” Iruka said after his first sip of the sweet liquor. It tasted like plum wine, the soft, tangy kind he had sometimes tasted on his travels.  
  
“I suppose it has nothing to do with the company then,” the hound noted nonchalantly, or as nonchalantly as a creature from nightmares could, which leaned more into the kind that made the slow learners to lose a few limbs.  
  
Iruka let a smile play on his lips at the mocking tone he could probably recognize in his sleep; the hesitant question he had learned to read between the lines of the silver-furred man. The things he had learned. “You aren't so bad,” he teased, his voice light and warm as he bumped his shoulder against the other's, briefly reveling in the shared connection he could feel through their clothes. “In fact, my earlier statement stands.”  
  
The considering hum that came from the masked man was fully orchestrated with cynical notes. “That I'm a perverted ass?”  
  
“Well cosmic facts won't change,” Iruka noted dryly, enjoying the chuckles he got, before once more taking in the scenery around them and then, carefully, giving an honest smile at the man next to him. Before he let the other say anything else to possibly ruin the mood, he balanced the glass on one hand while the other snatched the front of a dark jersey and reeled the masked mouth to meet his. It was brief, tender like his heartbeat, and still enough to make him moan against the pair of covered lips before he pulled back and fixed a content look at the pale hound. The surprised tilt of the silvery eyebrows on the demon's forehead made his smile widen. “It has been a while for me, to be treated like this.”  
  
“Well that isn't a wonder, considering that humans always say they crave for beauty and harmony, and yet what truly gets them off is violence and sex,” was the answer, but the look in the mismatched eyes that regarded the priest offered sentiments that overruled the obvious bait.  
  
“Then I hope there's something more to the dessert than just getting drunk so that I won't have to hunt for sugar to put some sweetness on your sour truths tonight,” Iruka stated back, not minding the smirk that refused to leave his face.  
  
“Maa. Since you so prudently mentioned it,” the demon drawled and took off the silvery cover from atop the serving plate, revealing a crystal bowl full of cinnamon-roasted chunks of apples with a small bowl of brown sugar resting on top of them.  
  
“You're in a habit of spoiling your first dates, surely,” Iruka mused at the sight of the delicious dish, and reached for one of the silvery forks that had been placed next to the bowl. He had anticipated the moment when the pale fingers made a go to snatch it from him, and a sharp slap sounded in the small library when furred knuckles were forced to retreat. “I can feed myself,” he casually said when he stabbed the first fruit bit and dipped it into sugar.  
  
“I'm in no doubt about that,” Kakashi replied with a smile in his eyes and while ignoring the sharp glance given by the mortal, the hound took a fork in hand and intended to enjoy the dessert as well.  
  
“I suppose you have no intention to let me in on the mask thing you’re doing tonight.” There, he said it, and for some reason Iruka couldn’t help but smack himself mentally when he caught up with his mouth.  
  
There was only a beat of a pause in the other’s body language, and yet the chip in the mood screamed at them.  
  
“Well,” the masked man mulled, his mismatched eyes looking interested at the piece of fruit skewered on his fork, “all good plans need things taken into account in order to succeed. I had to dress up for the occasion.” The fruit bit was lifted to be properly looked at before the hound turned to look at his date. “It was either this or a muzzle. I hope you haven’t minded terribly.”  
  
He couldn’t decide if it was the hound’s voice or what could be heard beneath the words that made him give a good look at their situation before Iruka answered. “When you put it that way.” Then, after a minute of self-reflecting, the dark-haired man sighed. “I don’t mind. Sorry.”  
  
“No offense taken. At least you haven’t tried taking it off by force like many others,” came the calm reply from the silver-haired hound who let out a small chuckle at his date’s horrified look. On the other hand, the darker side of him noted, should the human try it he would most certainly regret it; there was a reason to his questionable fame among the writers of the sacred scripts. Yet, he was not currently seducing just about anyone, but a _someone_ , which helped him to get back on track. “They say cinnamon is an aphrodisiac.”  
  
“Please leave the trivial pick-up trivia for us lowly mortals, it hurts my head to hear you say those things,” came the swift plea from this particular practicioner of sacred sacraments. “I also see what you’re trying to do with the apples and I assure you that it is best to let it be.”  
  
“I wasn’t,” called the defense that wasn’t even trying, “we already agreed to that.” Then, an unholy spark that had made many run to the hills in the past centuries was ignited in the hound’s eyes. “Though I could tell you a couple of good jokes if you like.”  
  
“I’m sure you know thrillingly good jokes,” the pointed look from the slanted eyes spoke volumes, “but I’m afraid the Book of Revelation has already spoiled some of them for you.”  
  
A huff of passing humor warmed the thickening air between the men as the hound fixed an intrigued look on the mortal who gave as good as he got. “You’re rather unorthodox for a reverent good-willer.”  
  
If the sudden change of topic caught him off guard, Iruka did well in not showing it. As it was, the priest leaned back on his seat and twirled his drink around in its glass. “Good will does not stand idle when there’s wrongness occurring, may it be against the person themselves or their brethren. Being a lamb does not make one a sheep.” Speaking of which. “You never told me you had access to my dreams.”  
  
“You never asked.” In some sense, that answer was anticipated.  
  
Bearing that in mind, Iruka let his hand wander up to his horns, his fingers gliding over the bumps and curves before traveling down the dark lines that crossed over his forehead before reaching his pensive, golden eyes. After reaching a decision, the dark-haired man made peace with his inner darkness. “…I drew this demon when I was seven.” He let it out with a breath of dark sentimentality coloring his words. “After the first week spent in the system since the funeral.”  
  
Oddly enough, the hound let the words sink into the silence that fell upon them, with nothing coming to twist what had been said. Both men sat quiet on the leather couch, their plates empty and their drinks nearing their finish, when the somber ambiance washed over them.  
  
When the silver-furred man finally spoke, it was as if the silence was suddenly made of glass. “Was it to reminisce someone? Or to mock an other?”  
  
A noncommittal hum reverberated from within the priest’s chest, and he took a slow sip of his drink. “I am starting to wonder why exactly you asked me on this date.” The golden eyes narrowed into slits before they blinked the passing thoughts away and looked at the other man sitting close by.  
  
Unfazed, the hound let himself to be put under scrutiny. After all, he had already seen what lay beneath the fiery gold of those eyes. “Humans are oddly paradoxical beings. You say you strive for better tomorrow, yet all you do is clung to the mistakes of your past and let them lead to new mistakes, let you become cold with your ignorance towards others. The world is full of good people who are capable of committing the most horrifying crimes without remorse.”  
  
“You’ve been strangely adamant in pointing out the flaws of men throughout this date,” Iruka commented while processing what the hound had said, the priests brows furrowing in deep thought. “Making passing statements as such.”  
  
“I am merely paving the path.” Those calmly spoken words made the room around them shift; the shadows to lengthen, the bookshelves to sigh.  
  
Yet none of that was witnessed by the two men who found themselves staring at each other over the forgotten dessert.  
  
“…Paving the path,” Iruka repeated numbly after having found words that didn’t taste like ash in his mouth. His eyes firmly kept on looking at the masked face of a being that he had supposed to be his date. Heaven help him, he wasn’t sure of that anymore.  
  
The mismatched eyes took in the sight they were presented, as if the hound wasn’t too sure either of where they stood then. More importantly, it gave him a few moments to take in the change in the mortal’s scent. “My intention is not to harm you,” was the sudden offer for soothe the situation, the lilt of his voice void of the lightness that had been so blatantly present in every word that the demon had let past his masked lips that evening.  
  
“Then let me hear your intention. Otherwise I am ready to make some foolish assumptions that you always accuse us mortals of,” Iruka demanded, yet his steady voice hardly showed any sign of the emotions that fought for dominance inside his soul, fear and betrayal having the upper hand. As if sensing his inner turmoil, his body awoke its forgotten instincts from their slumber, the tan hand tightening its fingers around the frail drink glass. After all, humans were creatures of old habits.  
  
For a silent beat, the addressed demon didn’t move or speak in his seat. Then, a murmur of a foreign word left the man’s masked mouth and the door leading to the lounge closed with a heavy click, followed by flashes of light from the spheres that flickered and then transformed themselves into glowing banners with strange symbols, them embedding inside the walls around them and leaving the whole room bathing in a dim general lighting; the painted sky of stars glowed brightly before dimming into a murky prussian blue, the gilded stars blinking lazily over them.  
  
All that he witnessed, and yet Iruka refused to shift his focus from the demon who looked back at him during the changes occurring in the room. “You removed us from the rest, didn’t you,” he let himself say while vehemently suppressing the tremble of anxiety that shook his spine.  
  
“These are matters that I don’t wish to speak in public,” Kakashi answered and slowly changed his posture on the couch, stretching his long legs and twirling his tail for a bit before settling into a comfortable position. “I’m surprised that you’re able to keep up with my tricks by now.”  
  
“Fast learner. The secret to my survival so far,” the priest said evenly, not letting the flattering words stroke his ego more than a fleeting second.  
  
“Of course,” Kakashi amended with a nod and a pair of smiling eyes. “Although right now you’re making this all seem like I’m going to eat you and doom your damned soul into somewhere nasty, which does put a bit of a damper on the mood I’ve been trying to create here.” At the sight of the other’s unimpressed stare, he quickly noted that he needed to elaborate or risk getting a second bruise imprinted onto his jaw. “What I meant was that I’m paving the path for us both to be able to enjoy ourselves fully on this date, but you seem to have misinterpreted my intentions.”  
  
“Then speak in a manner that the rest of us can understand, you idiot,” Iruka groaned, the sense of flooding relief palpable in his body language.  
  
“I don’t speak mortal so well, unfortunately,” Kakashi quipped back before he even tried to help himself, and a bark of laughter rumbled from underneath his mask at the priest’s positively glaring face. He complimented himself at that moment, however, when the golden eyes of the dark-haired mortal let go of the brewing irritation and regarded him with renewed sense of companionship. That look really suited the man. “I suppose I haven’t told you yet that you’re looking very nice tonight.”  
  
“Was it intentional?” Came the quick question, and yet instead of re-surfacing anger, there was a small smile dancing in the priest’s golden eyes.  
  
Seven hells, those eyes were fascinating up close. “I was curious,” Kakashi heard himself answer somewhere in the distance.  
  
“Dodging the issue does not suit you,” the human decided to point out.  
  
He could think of many things that could suit his date, but the hound surmised it was best to keep himself out of that particular gutter – until further notice, that is. “Maa. Not many get to meet their own demons face to face. I thought it would be interesting.”  
  
A dark eyebrow rose inquiringly on the tan face at that. “How would you come to that conclusion instead of this being something I had just thought up as a child? I was seven, then. There hardly was any intention behind this scribble,” was said with a vague gesture towards the mentioned visage.  
  
“Didn’t you know that the number seven is perceived as one of the holy numbers among the history of men?” The demon asked casually, knowing fully well who he was talking to. That didn’t stop him from giving a small lecture of his own. “They say human cells renew themselves in seven years. Then there’s the Seven Deadly Sins, as well the Seven Virtues to counter them. Your weeks have seven days, since some of you claim that the world was created in seven days. It can be a lucky number to some. There is even said to be seven types of chakra; the list goes on. So, when following that logic, why would a child at the age of seven be any less significant than any of these proposed ideas men have created as tools to understand their reality?” He could see it, the intrigued light that shone in the golden eyes that regarded him, could feel the other’s rapt attention against his skin, and it gave him the resolution to continue, to lean closer to the mortal and admire the alluring cupid’s bow accenting the full lips before caressing the honey-toned skin with his lazy gaze. Funny how the mortal always wondered why he sought out topics to debate with him; he hardly was someone with noble motives.  
  
“A child at the age of seven is on the cusp of understanding the world around them, and yet they’re still infants, still innocent enough not to see danger in every shadow. And yet they’re skeptical enough to know that what they’re told is not the whole truth of the world. That the adults are not the gods who keep them away from harm; the almighty heroes who always save them. That’s even more clear to those who are violently taken from the path they had been walking on.” There the hound cupped the jaw that had tempted him ever since they had entered the room, and let the man in his hold to drown into the deep waters of his eyes. “Thus, a wounded child creates a trustworthy partner who they can always rely on.” He sensed it: the tremor that traveled under the tender skin that was pressed against his palm. It was worthy enough of a reaction to make him smile wickedly at the man he held. “I thought you would like to meet your other side in flesh.”  
  
A suppressed whine pushed out from the tan throat, it constricting dryly as he tried to swallow, and Iruka gave himself a moment to concentrate on such feeling before he could start thinking of anything to respond. However, before he could put the chaos of thoughts back into their rightful order, the demon’s next words pulled the ground from beneath him.  
  
“You’re afraid of what I’m seeing.” There was a whisper of pleasure in the evenly given notice.  
  
He could only shake his head, merely tilt it from side to side against the hold the other had on his jaw, and hope that the surge of alertness wasn’t visible on his face. Seeing how the demon’s eyes narrowed in thoughtful delight wasn’t giving him much of a hope.  
  
“You are a peculiar man,” the demon’s voice murmured, and it sounded like a roar of a tide hitting across the planes of the earth, the cacophony of noise echoing in the space around them. The hold on the tan jaw was released only to relocate against the swallowing throat, the pale thumb pressing against the beating pulse it found, the demon briefly marveling the thought of stopping the heart causing it, when he brought his masked lips close to the other pair. He let his breath carry against the sensitive flesh, reveling in the changes it created in the heartbeats he found himself idly counting. “…That is you.”  
  
“…Why showing me here?” Frail and faint were the words that Iruka could pull out of his numb mouth, to keep his shivering soul warm against the chill of thrills that raked all over his body.  
  
“I am someone of flair and eccentrics when it comes to entertaining my bed partners,” the silver-haired hound stated, whimsical desire leaking into his voice, as he pressed his forehead against the other’s, taking in the sensations that the curved horns elicited on his skin when they touched.  
  
“Liar,” rolled off his tongue, languid and drunken, either due to the liquor or the body’s chemicals flowing into his bloodstream, Iruka didn’t care which.  
  
“There’s a reputation to maintain,” followed the proof of what had been accused.  
  
While overlooking the budding annoyance at his dodgy date, Iruka smirked sharply. “Don’t take me for a fool.” He pressed against the pale skin, the heat he felt concentrating on the single point that shared the connection with the demon’s presence, the rest of his body then fully aware of where his blood was traveling. Oh, how sweet the temptation, to give in.  
  
“Unless you let me,” the demon said.  
  
They paused, forehead against the other, with mismatched eyes staring into the golden ones. The silence, having patiently waited for its cue, wrapped its cloak around their shoulders, thick as the softest wool and lighter than the smallest feather, when the human and the demon measured one another.  
  
Somewhere in the distance, a note of a simple melody began to play, accompanied with cheers and greeting words spoken to the addressed audience. At that, the priest perked up to look around them, strangely not seeing anyone close by.  
  
“It’s not only food that this place is known for,” sounded the amused explanation from the hound at the sight of his ever-curious date. “They have an excellent taste in live music as well.”  
  
Iruka couldn’t help raising an eyebrow on those words. “How can we hear them, though? I thought-”  
  
A dark chuckle told everything there was to tell, but Kakashi decided to let the man off the hook. “You are quick to assume. I never said that I had removed us from The Purgatory. Merely, I made this a private area for us to enjoy.”  
  
Oh, that bastard was going to be the death of him. Most probably, anyway. Iruka dropped the resistance against the grin that took over his face. “You're rather clever.”  
  
“That I shall take as the compliment it is,” Kakashi answered, his hidden smile full of sharp teeth. “Hopefully you like jazz and blues macabre – we’re not so big fans of light choir music here.”  
  
“I suspect that you’ve already browsed through my music libraries. Otherwise this is too coincidental,” Iruka quipped back, and then stole a minute to listen to the artist play. “I can hear their intent, even though I lack understanding their words.”  
  
“I’m pleased to hear you deem it tolerable.” He wasn’t entirely sure if it was hesitance that he could hear in the demon’s joke.  
  
Iruka let himself laugh dryly at the hound’s humor. As it was, the sounds he may be producing in just a couple of minutes will be a completely other kind, if the heavy intent he felt brushing against his body was any indication.  
  
While the music played, there they sat, two men bred in different realms, on one leather couch under the dark night sky – letting the dark voice of the singer seduce the tense silence around them.  
  
“…So.” The lilt in the demon’s voice was all promises.  
  
“So.” The priest was rather sure he should not be able to taste his heart on his tongue. “Usually these sort of things are not considered as part of the first date,” Iruka felt obligated to point out, if only to maintain some sense of control on his rebellious body that already thrummed for the touch it knew the hound was more than capable of giving.  
  
Considering the look the mortal was given by the other, the pale bastard was fully aware of that. Kakashi took a measure of pleasure in the scent he detected when he eased himself slightly away from their bodily contact and was granted with the smallest sound of protest from his prey. “Maa. Your rules do not apply in this realm.”  
  
He knew. Hence, he stalled. If only out of spite. “I have noticed.”  
  
The huff of laughter from the silver-haired hound would have been amused, had the darkness of his lust not been so clearly visible on his masked face when Kakashi gave a long look at the mortal man. A sigh of silence passed between them. “I have enjoyed myself in your company tonight,” were the thoughts that were spoken then, and the demon let himself drink in the desirable blush that stole over the priest’s high cheeks.  
  
“Oh good, would have been rather terrible to hear otherwise after all this” Iruka commented, flippant while being honest with the warmth that made a nest for itself inside his stomach. Although, that didn’t stop him from grasping for the last snipe. “However, only a fool would believe what you say.”  
  
As it was, the gray and the blood red eye darkened even further in tempo with the dimming of the light around them; a moment’s notice before the creature of tall tales made his move.  
  
The press of the hound’s body, so solid and heavy, pushed Iruka down against the leather couch without waiting for him to answer, and he let out a gasp of surprise mixed with clear invitation when his thighs were pulled apart and he was enveloped by the other’s heat. His head lolled to the side against the smooth leather and it took less than a second before he felt sharp, cloth-covered teeth gracing against his skin, followed by a nose that chased after his scent.  
  
“Should I take you for a fool tonight?” The hound wondered against the skin which he nibbled and smelled, his voice husky and dark. “Let you know how foolish you were to let me enter over your threshold that night?” A sharp nip of the teeth, and the mortal’s breath hitched, along with his own when he relished the reactions he was able to pull out of his prey.  
  
“It takes a fool to know one,” Iruka moaned without even registering that his mouth was still miraculously able to form coherent sentences when his hands were already ahead of themselves, his restless fingers pulling and rubbing on the jersey covering the demon’s neck, trailing their paths up to play with the silvery hair. “It would have taken a far more ruthless man to leave you there.”  
  
“Your kindness will be your fate,” the words that were spoken next to the tan ear were sinfully pleased.  
  
There was something in there that should have alarmed him, but Iruka’s mind readily flew past caring about it when his cock throbbed painfully against its clothed confines at the roll of hips that pressed against his. May he be given mercy. “Then hurry with it.”  
  
“Don’t mind if I do,” the hound purred, the echo of thousand years in his growl.  
  
Next thing he knew, he landed on an illegally hard mattress that his spine hated from the start, but as he embraced the familiar body that followed his fall on the fatally stiff bedding, Iruka couldn’t care less. His golden eyes blinked up dazedly at the starry sky that twinkled above the passionate pair, the priest fleetingly surmising that they seemed to have moved off the couch into the center of the room, but he was quickly drawn back to the other matters at hand when a pale hand took a good hold onto his tied hair and tilted his head to meet the hungry lips, the press and slide of clothed pair making him agonizingly aware of the time and place. But, as he opened his mouth to ask the other about the possibility of losing the damned barrier between them, a sudden slide of a wet tongue stopped his brain altogether and his eyes rolled back when the demon played his sinful games inside his mouth. The kiss ended far too soon for his liking, and the golden eyes burned hungrily as they opened to catch a glimpse of the unmasked face – only to see the familiar dark mask that had become like a very tightly fitting second skin on the hound’s face, every curve of the hound’s facial features visible but black as if inked.  
  
Sensing the question coming from the other, Kakashi winked at the mortal beneath him, his thin lips moving clearly under the new black skin. “I told you: my place, my rules. Now then,” he then rumbled and bit gently down on the sliver of skin that peeked underneath the dark dress shirt, “I recall you had plenty of shirts.” A sharp gesture of the sharp-nailed hand, and a sound of neatly cutting fabric was heard. Before the scandalized priest could mourn for his ruined attire, or realize that he was performing things he had not done before, the demon upped the stakes and put serious effort in removing the rest of their unnecessary clothing.  
  
His world narrowed down into chaos of overwhelming sensory information, his skin itching, burning, trembling and craving more for a touch under the demon’s ministrations. When his cock was engulfed by the skilled mouth, Iruka distantly heard himself make sounds that surely would have him kicked out of his profession should his most conservative colleagues ever catch a whiff of it. Never mind ever finding out who exactly was making him cry out in such voice when his most intimate secrets were ruthlessly exposed and exploited by the clever fiend. Heavens help him, he felt fainter than Bernini’s _Saint Teresa_ during her encounter with the holy beings, the moment of ecstasy that had taken over her body when the ethereal light had coursed through her mortal veins doubling in pleasure that left his own mind numb and morals loose.  
  
During his personal rapture, he paid no mind to his own flesh that pulled, pushed, clawed and grasped the silver-furred embodiment of hell’s sins that spoke in foreign tongues against his feverish skin; the hound’s clothes were begone, the demon’s naked body fully accessible to the member of the human family. The notes of the singer rose high, higher than the chants of praise heard in the high rooms of holy scripts, and he heard his voice join the chorus of the underworld when he was stretched open with vicious precision; when his body received the flesh and spirit of what must never be wanted by his kind, what should be kept from entering over the threshold.  
  
The thrust of the demon’s cock inside him ignited a flame so intense, so familiar to him by now, within his systems that his eyes whited out for a second. He crashed down to the ruthless rhythm, to the way his back bowed up from the mattress, his shoulder blades digging into the fatally stiff bed while his fingers tensed on the linen and his legs wrapped around the body that moved above him, his hips rolling desperately to meet the other.  
  
May there be mercy.  
  
“You should see yourself now,” growled the deep voice in between harsh gasps when the demon slowed their movements and ground his hips hard and slow against the tan man’s.  
  
Had he been any less lost in the pleasure, Iruka would have noticed it to be a declare of an intention and not a passing observation.  
  
The relocation of hands, legs and hips was swift and over before the priest even had time to complain at his companion over the loss of the heated flesh making a mess of him, and the second his eyes opened to stare unseeing at the wall of pleasure that nailed him with the help of the demon’s sweet cock that dragged holy fires of hell against his clenching walls, he barely registered to be leaning on his elbows against a chilly floor and staring at himself from the black marble floor; noting the golden eyes flashing like polished copper in the cold dawn, seeing his mouth pulled into a sneer, admiring his skin that glowed with uninhibited need.  
  
“Those horns really make your eyes stand out,” was murmured next to his ear, and he could only watch as the horns in question were caressed by the nimble fingers, see the hound smirking as he hit the spot _just so_. Unexpectedly, whether because of the visual stimulus or the haptical sensations, a violent wave of tremors traveled over his sweaty skin, pulling at his spine and sliding all over his leaking erection when the hell’s creation rubbed and scratched the curved bumps on the priest’s forehead.  
  
“You beast,” he nearly missed himself hissing, his eyes turning pale gold in short-lived fire before the sound of his voice ended with a broken moan when both of his horns were palmed by the other at the same time when his backside slapped hard against the furred skin. He felt like being pampered and tortured at the same time on every touch he was granted, and his mouth searched for curses and pleas without being able to utter any, his verbal abilities deteriorating to only vowels and voiceless cries. He was pushed firmly down, with his upper body halfway out of the bed and his hips pulled up high, the coldness of the floor feeling like ice against his heated skin when he was mounted; when the silvery beast took a bruising hold onto him and changed the angle so that it felt like he was being relieved from his very soul.  
  
His cry of outrage was, in that sense, understandable, when the utter bastard pulled out again when he was on the edge of falling, and flipped him over and upwards, the momentum carrying him to smack straight against the hard chest and find himself riding the wet dream of all seven hells that surely had made many holy virgins weep at the beginning of time.  
  
“I can see it, you know, the other you are,” Kakashi murmured against the gasping mouth when looked up to the dazed, golden eyes, seeing the man in his hold becoming undone. “It fits you.”  
  
“You like it,” Iruka panted back, torn between the desire to slap the asshat for being so chatty suddenly or just silencing the man by giving him something else to focus on. That being said, the silvery tail he suddenly spotted waggling behind the demon’s shoulder was like heaven-sent.  
  
The room echoed with a yelp of an unsuspecting demon when tan hands suddenly took a firm hold onto the hellhounds tail and gave it a few firm strokes. That unexpected find seemed to stoke the flames of lust in both of them, and the men paused for the smallest shift of air to marvel the echoes of their intimacy, their chests heaving and muscles trembling, their shared sweat mingling on their bodies.  
  
“Yeah,” Kakashi nodded, “that I do.” Teasingly, he let his hands travel the expanse of warm skin and firm flesh, kneading the muscles and treating the tendons. “All we need is a halo and then you’re all set.”  
  
“Then let me have it,” Iruka whispered, cradling the hound's half-blackened face between his hands and kindling a fiery kiss into life, tasting the demon’s agile tongue in his mouth and mapping the geography of sharp teeth with his. His hips began to move, rolling like waves falling over the horizon, and so did his breath quicken once more, as he chased after the promises he had been given for the night – to strip the half-truths bare and nurture the seeds of what had been sown in their common soil the moment they had crossed paths behind _Tony’s_.  
  
Like a being of one, they rutted shamelessly under the starry sky, both seeking out one another, climbing towards the mutual climax, speaking endearments and hissing profanities in their mutual tongue that had been evolving between them; lowering their guards to become equals.  
  
In the end, should anyone ask him, Kakashi did see a halo glowing above them when Iruka’s eyes squeezed shut and they cried out together, his mismatched eyes closing against the onslaught of emotions and satisfaction that pulled him beneath the surface of reality.  
  
The silence let a moment, a second, to pass, and watched them fall together.  
  
Only the sounds of heaving breaths and muttered curses disturbed the melody played in the background as the pair lay on the shared linen, not much shared between them, no comments deemed fit enough to be said.  
  
“Fuck,” Kakashi felt necessary to say, however.  
  
“I vouch for that,” Iruka decided to add. After a moment when nothing else was said, the priest turned on his side and fixed his partner with a look. “For a moment there I thought you were using me for a blood sacrifice or something.”  
  
“Did I make you bleed?” Alarmed, that was not something one would usually associate with the image of hell hounds.  
  
“Of course not,” Iruka said with a smile and reached out with limp fingers to brush them against the pale and sweaty forehead in order to soothe his companion. “But you have to admit, this setting did have some similar elements.”  
  
“You’re reading too much into it,” was said when a smirk spread across the silver-furred demon’s face, “or rather, too much of it. Those books are corrupting your brain.”  
  
A spent huff of laughter fell from the human’s lips. “I gave you that one too easily, didn’t I.”  
  
“Always happy to turn your words against you,” the hound mused and then decided that his skin had cooled down enough. He was pleased to see that the mortal didn’t resist him when pulling the man against him, and then he let himself inhale the other’s scent long and deep while giving his hands a free reign to gently map the warm skin. “Are you alright?”  
  
A moment of thought. Then, a nod. “I am. Are you?”  
  
He supposed that one should not snort at such questions, but he wasn’t about to learn new tricks. “How do you even assume that I would not be?”  
  
“As easily as I would assume that you are, bastard,” Iruka rebutted back and rose on his elbows to peer down at the amused demon. Apparently the hound found what lay in his smile, as the amused air dissipated from between them. “But I don’t wish to assume. Not with you.”  
  
At first, the mortal wasn’t sure if he had crossed some invisible and unwanted line with his words when the addressed man lay still and quiet, the pale fingers only rubbing against the tan skin on the man’s back. Then, the demon spoke. “It seems that the path is paved.”  
  
“With good intentions?” Iruka quipped back, only a bit of him morbidly aware of just how close to home that particular phrase was hitting.  
  
However, the sliver of tenderness that flickered in the gray and red eyes that smiled at what they saw between those lines made the chilly air a couple of degrees warmer. “Only if those roads always lead up to your place.”  
  
There weren’t many things Iruka found he could say to such a declaration. Perhaps, it wasn’t needed. But there were other subjects he could bring up. “You know how to space-skip us there without missing the couch when landing?”  
  
The look that was given by the hound to the mortal man was full of rightful, if slightly appalled, indignation. “I should leave you with the check.”  
  
“Forgive me,” he chuckled with no remorse, and for some time to come, whenever they found themselves dining with a belladonna decorating their table, he would come back to this odd event that had finally given him peace with his existence, fondly remembering the utterly stupid grins they shared while laying naked under the gilded stars.  
  
But, for now, all he focused on were the visible sentiments dancing in the mismatched eyes and the deep voice of the demon that spoke to him; the one word that he could not understand, yet he knew exactly what was said.  
  
Only a look it took, to know they had not figured it wrong.  
  
Only a kiss to know they were right all along.  
  
Mercy was relative, after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Disney reference: The Beauty and The Tramp, the scene 'Bella Notte'. No regrets.


End file.
